


Twenty

by leontina (Leontina)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, First Time, Implied Future Bondage, M/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Past Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Past Draco/OC, Praise Kink, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-18 03:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10607928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leontina/pseuds/leontina
Summary: Just minutes after Voldemort’s defeat at the Final Battle, Harry is struck by a curse that sends him into a magical coma, and is only saved by being placed under a Stasis Charm that also prevents him aging. It takes 20 years to find a cure, and when Harry awakes again he is 18 and the rest of the world has moved on. Draco takes Harry in and soon falls for him, but fears the age difference between them will be too much





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Draco Tops Harry Fest
> 
> This story focuses on a relationship with an age gap (38/18) so if that bothers you, well, you know what to do ;) But I hope you enjoy the story otherwise :D

*******

For a brief few moments after the Dark Lord’s body hit the floor, everything went silent.

Nobody dared to move or even breathe, and even the giants and the Acromantula froze in place. The Dark Lord was dead, completely and utterly, and Harry Potter had won. 

But the Death Eaters weren’t quite ready to accept defeat. 

Rabastan Lestrange was the first to fire a curse, the spell narrowly zooming past Potter’s head and colliding with Professor Slughorn instead. Slughorn’s eyes immediately glazed over, lifeless, as he crumpled to the ground, unmoving despite the desperate shaking of Professors Sprout and Flitwick. 

Professor McGonagall shot a curse back at Rabastan before anyone could even blink, and then all hell broke loose. 

Draco felt his mother tug him backward and he went with her effortlessly, hiding in a crook of broken castle wall as he watched the battle rage on around him. The Death Eaters had nothing left to lose anymore; all they could do was take down as many people as they could before they were knocked out or killed, and it seemed that that was exactly what they were trying to do. 

The Light side was fighting back just as violently, perhaps spurred on by watching Potter defeat the Dark Lord. Bright flashes of light illuminated the Great Hall, flickering fast and violently as both sides of the war fought for the last time. 

Potter stood in the midst of the chaos, clearly weary but still determined. His eyes locked with Draco’s, and suddenly he started an attempt to cross the Great Hall in Draco’s direction. 

Draco’s eyes widened. Was Potter going to try and drag him into the fight? Was he going to berate him for being a coward?

Before Draco could prepare himself to potentially be forced into the battle, a hand grabbed hold of his arm. Draco jumped and quickly turned his wand on his assailant, only to find his Uncle Rodolphus looking at him with wild eyes.

“Our Lord won’t go unavenged, Draco, don’t you worry about that,” Rodolphus said darkly, sharing a look with Draco’s father before he grinned wickedly. 

Draco knew he should have shouted out as soon as he saw Potter’s unmistakeable head of hair push through the last barrier of people that separated Draco from the battle, but he found himself frozen in place, his mouth somehow not connecting with his brain. 

Potter’s eyes widened as Rodolphus raised his wand on him, and despite Potter’s quick reaction, it wasn’t quick enough. The jet of dark green light hit Potter squarely in the chest, not bright enough by any means to be the Killing Curse, but whatever the spell was it sent Potter falling to the floor, his body convulsing violently. 

Draco turned to his Uncle, surprised to see a look of confusion on his face. Was his spell not supposed to have done that? But before Draco could ask Rodolphus what had happened, Granger and a whole clan of Weasleys pushed through the crowd, their wands raised angrily towards Rodolphus. 

Rodolphus simply smirked at them before turning his wand on himself and sending a Slashing curse at his neck. Draco flinched as a spray of warm blood hit him, refusing to look down as Rodolphus’s lifeless body crumpled at his feet. 

Granger and the Weasley clan paid Rodolphus no heed, rushing over to Harry who was still convulsing on the floor.

The crowd had gone quiet again, most eyes fixed on Potter, with the exception of a handful of Aurors who took the opportunity to strike down the remaining Death Eaters before they could retaliate again. 

“We need to get him to St Mungo’s now!” Draco heard one of the Weasleys say, his voice sounding like it was echoing in Draco’s head even though they were only feet apart. 

Draco watched as the Weasley with long hair and a fang earring lifted Harry easily into his arms and Apparated away, quickly followed by the rest of his family. Finally, only Granger remained, and she hesitated for just a moment before running over to Draco. 

“Malfoy!” she exclaimed, gripping hold of his arms. “Did you see what happened?”

Draco could only stare at Granger who seemed far too close, her face going in and out of focus.

“Malfoy!” Granger repeated, giving Draco a rough shake. “Did you see what happened?”

Draco managed to make himself nod, and then felt his stomach lurch as Granger Side-Along Apparated him to St Mungo’s, the bright lights of the hospital almost blinding. He allowed Granger to drag him through the corridors of the hospital and into the room where a crowd of Healers worked desperately around Potter’s bed. 

A couple of the Weasleys gave Draco a filthy look when they saw him, but their attention was mainly focused on Harry, who Draco could just about see lying on the bed. His convulsions seemed to have faded, but the urgency of the Healers suggested that that wasn’t a good thing.

“We’re going to lose him,” one of the Healers cried, his wand creating a yellow glow over Harry’s body before it fizzled into nothingness. 

“You feel how unstable his magic is?” another Healer said, her brow furrowed as she looked at hovering numbers in the air that must have been Potter’s statistics. “I don’t think the curse hit him as powerfully as it was supposed to.”

“Do you think his magic being so unstable splintered the curse and made it weaker?” another Healer asked her. 

“Possibly,” came the uncertain answer. “But none of that matters unless we can figure out how to stop the curse eating away at his organs.”

That drew a sob out of the Weasley mother, and the statistical Healer looked at them as if she had noticed them for the first time. 

“You shouldn’t be in here,” she said hurriedly, but Granger stepped up, shaking her head. 

“This man here saw the spell that hit Harry,” Granger said, gesturing at Draco, 

The Healer’s eyes widened hopefully. “Did you hear the incantation?”

Draco shook his head. “The curse...the curse was non-verbal. The colour was dark green, though, not like the Killing Curse. And...and I don’t think it was supposed to do what it was meant to. The man who cursed Potter seemed confused at the results.”

“So perhaps the spell was designed to kill him instantly,” the Healer theorised, glancing at her colleagues. “I’m Healer Negm; is the man who attacked Harry in custody?”

“He killed himself,” Granger answered quietly, and Negm’s eyes flickered to the blood splatters on Draco’s face and shirt.

“Healer, Harry’s vitals are dropping,” one of Negm’s colleagues shouted to her, prompting her to rush back to Potter’s side. 

Draco could hear his own heart pounded in his ears, along with the sobbing of Potter’s friends and the frantic murmuring of the Healers. And as Draco watched the Healers work, it was like he was watching the scene through someone else’s eyes. 

“Stand back,” Negm barked. “I’m going to put Harry under a Stasis Charm until we can figure out what curse hit him and how to fix it.”

“But Healer!” one of her colleagues argued. “You know the risks of placing a patient under a Stasis Charm.”

“It’s either that or he dies!” Negm shouted. “And I’m not prepared to let a young man die without giving him at least a fighting chance. Now step back.”

The other Healers all stepped back without another word as Negm raised her wand over Potter. That was the last thing Draco saw before his body could take no more and his world fell dark.

**20 Years Later**

Draco’s spell slashed through the last defence on the front door to Lestrange Manor, and the rotten wood fell to the floor with a clatter with no more magic to hold it up.

Draco peered into the darkness of the empty entrance hall and cast a curse detection spell over the threshold. The curses that lingered there were old and thus weak, and Draco tore them down easily. He pressed his wand against the metal band he had wrapped around his wrist and raised it to his mouth. 

“Entryway is clear,” Draco spoke into the band. “”Auror team are safe to enter.”

Ron Weasley appeared moments later, the Deputy Head Auror badge gleaming on his red robes. A small band of high-ranking Aurors followed him, along with Hermione who, like Draco, was involved as a Curse-Breaker and magic theorist. 

“Malfoy and Granger are to go in ahead to destroy any lingering curses,” Ron stated to his team. “Do not touch anything without consulting them first. The Lestrange brothers may both be dead but anything they’ve left behind could be just as dangerous.”

The team nodded and dutifully followed Draco and Hermione into the manor. Draco had been to his uncle’s home several times, and though it had been many years ago he could still remember roughly the directions through the house to reach the library.

Draco didn’t detect any more curses on doorways, but that was to be expected; Bellatrix and Rodolphus were talented with magic, and no doubt had great faith in their outside enchantments stopping anyone undesirable getting in. Still, Draco wasn’t prepared to take any risks.

“I reiterate what the Deputy Head said,” Draco called to the band of Aurors behind him once they stepped into the library. “Take great care not to touch anything, especially if you’re not pure-blood; many of the curses the Lestranges favoured were designed to only activate to those with Muggle traces in their blood.”

Bellatrix had shown Draco in great detail how those curses worked, tricking Muggle-born prisoners into touching seemingly harmless objects which would then leave then writhing in agony. Back when Draco still suffered from frequent nightmares, it was Bellatrix more often than Voldemort who featured in them. Draco suspected that it was because Bellatrix treated Draco fondly, at least as fondly as any psychopathic sadist could. 

Draco shook his head to clear his thoughts of his deceased aunt and set to work with Hermione on breaking any curses so that the Aurors could search the library more easily. There weren’t too many curses to deal with—a library hadn’t held much value to people like Bellatrix and Rodolphus—so as soon as the room was clear both he and Hermione were able to join the search. 

What they were searching for was something that might not exist; a reference to the spell that Rodolphus had cursed Harry with two decades ago. Despite many years of work and research the Healers and the Aurors hadn’t been able to figure out what had happened to Harry, and finally discovering the location of Lestrange Manor had been their best lead for years. 

The team had been searching for over an hour when Hermione let out a sound of triumph, holding a scrap of parchment high in the air. 

“This could be it,” she beamed. “ _A curse to obliterate organs_.”

One of the younger Aurors shivered slightly. “Potter was a lucky one to survive that,” he murmured darkly. 

“Harry survived the Killing Curse that same day,” Ron countered. “I think that’s something more than luck. Granger and Malfoy, you accompany me to St Mungo’s. The rest of you carry on searching in case this lead gets us nowhere, and I’ll send for another Curse-Breaker.”

Draco joined Ron and Hermione to Apparate to the hospital, and as soon as they arrived they broke into a run, their feet carrying them down the same path they had travelled almost every time they visited St Mungo’s.

“Aziza! Aziza!” Hermione called as they reached Healer Negm’s office. “Aziza, I think we’ve found something!”

Aziza Negm looked up from her desk, closing the tome she’d been reading. Her bright brown eyes widened, and she stretched her arm across the desk to take the parchment from Hermione. 

“Hmm,” she murmured as she read. “This really does sound promising. Shall we take this to the testing room?”

The testing room was a large room in the research department corridor, just two doors down from Aziza’s office. It was entirely bare and used for casting unknown or unsafe spells with nothing in the way to accidentally get damaged. Empty rooms were a very common necessity in the Curse-Breaking and spell research industry, and Draco had come to associate the open spaces with innovation and intrigue. 

“Ron, you cast the spell,” Hermione directed. “Then if the colour matches the curse from Draco’s memory, we can start working on it.”

The others nodded, stepping back while Ron stepped forwards to cast the incantation written on the parchment scrap. As soon as Draco saw the dark green flash leave Ron’s wand he knew that they had found their curse, and his heart jumped at the implications. 

“That was it,” he whispered, staring at the patch of the wall the spell had disintegrated into. “That was it.”

His memory of Harry’s attack had been viewed in a Pensieve so many times by Ron, Hermione, and Aziza that they didn’t need any convincing. 

“Draco, this is where we need you,” Aziza stated, steering Draco forwards with firm but gentle hands. “I’ll freeze the curse when Ron casts it next, and then you can break it apart until we find the malefic strand.”

Draco nodded, clutching his wand ready. 

The Breaking of curses slowly, strand by strand, was a method developed by himself and Hermione, overseen by Aziza who had taken them both on as apprentices nineteen years ago. Curse-Breaking usually tended to be fast and violent, obliterating the curse almost instantly. The new method, however, allowed them to see which strands of the spell caused the damage, and studying that strand could then allow them to figure out the counter-curse. It was a difficult procedure but had been very effective, and Aziza had been able to help many of her patients who’d been suffering from curse effects for a long time thanks to the technique.

“Ready, Ron?” Draco asked, giving him a reassuring nod as Ron readied himself. 

It took Aziza three times to cast the Stasis Charm at exactly the right time, managing to catch the beam of green light in mid-air. It looked almost like a multi-tiered bold of lightning, the magic still pulsing in a giveaway sign of incredibly powerful magic. 

Draco cast a Barrier Charm over himself for protection before setting to work, blocking out the others in the room as he began pulling the curse apart, strand by strand. It was long, draining work, but Draco kept his focus, barely aware of Hermione standing opposite him where she was studying the strands for the malefic one. 

As expected, the stand they were looking for was right in the middle. It was darker than the other strands and had a strong glow to it, the tip of the strand appearing almost sharp. 

“Hermione, would you agree with me that this is the malefic strand?” Draco asked, flexing his shoulders as he broke his focus at last.

“Definitely,” Hermione agreed. “Aziza, will you oversee the next part with me?”

It was Draco’s turn to step back as Hermione began working at the malefic strand, digging to the core of it so she and Aziza could figure out how to reverse the curse. That was where Draco and Hermione’s line of work differed; Draco destroyed cursed, while Hermione flipped them. 

Another tense hour passed before a flushed Hermione finally broke out into a smile.

“Got it!” she declared, her wand hovering over the curse until it turned red. 

“So what now?” Ron equired, looking very much like he needed a good lie down. “What if we wake Harry up and this spell fails? Do you really think this will reverse the curse?”

Aziza shrugged lightly. “I can’t say for definite. What we know is that the curse that hit Harry was supposed to kill him almost instantly; it was only his own magic being so unstable that it splintered the curse that saved his life. There isn’t supposed to be a cure for this curse because until now there’s been no need for one.”

“It’s our only choice,” Hermione uttered, her voice small. “Harry’s been unconscious for twenty years; you know nothing else has worked, Ron, and this has been the only major lead we’ve had. If we don’t give this a chance then I don’t think we’ll ever be able to help Harry.”

“I have faith in our abilities,” Draco added, glancing over at Hermione and Aziza. “If anything’s going to work, it will be this. If it doesn’t…”

He trailed off, not needing to say what would happen if their attempts at curing Harry failed. It had taken them twenty years to get to this point; Draco hated to think how much longer it would take to reach another possible lead. 

“Well if you’re ready?” Aziza prompted, carefully moving the frozen spell across the room with her. 

They walked slowly and carefully through the staff corridors, avoiding the bustling wards as much as they could until they reached the fourth floor. 

Harry had his own private room, and the scent of fresh flowers hit Draco as soon as the door opened. Harry’s room was never in short supply of flowers and cards, usually sent by various Weasleys. 

Even though Draco had been in Harry’s room plenty of times over the years, he still felt a stab of discomfort each time he saw Harry’s prone form on the bed. The Stasis Charm had stopped the curse from spreading further, but it had also frozen him in youth, leaving him seventeen for the last twenty years. As Draco’s body changed with age, Harry’s stayed exactly the same, and considering he’d spent a year on the run from a manic Dark wizard, that left him looking rather frail. 

Aziza moved the spell over Harry’s body, right over his heart.

“As soon as the Stasis Charm drops then I’ll touch Harry with the anti-curse,” she said, sounding like she was trying to be stronger than she felt. “If it doesn’t work I’ll try and re-apply the Stasis Charm, but I want you to prepare yourselves for the fact that it might not take again; that’s why we’ve been so wary to remove it in the past. Are you ready?”

Nobody moved. Then, finally, Hermione nodded. 

“Finite Incantatem,” Hermione murmured, removing the Stasis Charm from Harry. 

Draco had never seen Aziza move so fast, plunging the red beam of light down into Harry just as he let out a groan of pain. They all watched, transfixed, as Harry arched his back and froze, his eyes wide and terrified before he fell back on the bed silent and unmoving.

Aziza hurried forwards, taking his wrist in one hand while she drew up his statistics with her other. 

“He’s got a strong pulse, vitals are good...rapidly improving, in fact,” she murmured softly, casting a gentle gaze over Harry’s form. “Ron, alert the Healers, will you?” 

Ron hurried off, and Aziza fixed Hermione and Draco with a wide smile. “I think we’ve done it,” she beamed. “I think Harry’s going to be okay.”

Draco suddenly found himself with an armful of a tearful Hermione, who clutched at him with a crushing grip. Draco glanced over her shoulder at Harry who, despite his stillness, seemed peaceful and out of pain...Draco found himself unable to keep the smile off his face, despite himself. 

A team of Healers rushed in then and ushered Draco and Hermione out, but it didn’t take long for them to send word that the curse had definitely been lifted and that Harry was no longer in critical condition.

Exactly twenty years to the day since Harry had been cursed, he’d finally be able to start living.

*******

Draco released the frozen red beam of the Cruciatus Curse he’d been studying when the knock sounded at his door, and pushed his safety goggles up to his hairline. Aziza readjusted the fabric of her silver hijab before breaking the Barrier Charms on both her and Draco, and unlocked the door with another wave of her wand.

Hermione stepped into the room moments later, her eyes focused worryingly on Draco. 

Hermione had been Draco’s colleague for nineteen years now, and it had only been in the last three months that Draco hadn’t seen lines of stress on Hermione’s face. She wasn’t unhappy, of course—she was happily married to Ron and with two doted upon children—but Harry’s condition had weighed heavily upon her, and now he was awake twenty years worth of tension had left her and given her face a fresh, youthful glow. 

“Sorry to bother you, Aziza,” Hermione said, bowing her head slightly. “But I was wondering if I could borrow Draco for a little while.”

“What for?” Draco enquired, glancing at the space where the Cruciatus Curse had just been frozen. “We’re both rather busy here.”

Aziza looked to Hermione to expand, ready to make a decision only when she had all the details. Aziza could be stern but she was a fair boss, and Draco considered her not just his employer but also his friend. 

“Harry wanted to talk to you,” Hermione said, fixing Draco with a reassuring smile. “I told him I’d see if you were free.”

Draco froze. He hadn’t seen Harry since he’d come out of the Stasis Charm three months ago. Part of the reason was simply that Harry wasn’t his patient so he didn’t need to see him, but while twenty years had passed, to Harry it had only been three months. Draco had grown a lot over the years, and he worried that seeing Harry would somehow tear apart all the efforts Draco had made to rebuild himself and leave him as angry, scared, and spiteful as he’d been at the age of seventeen.

“I simply think I have too much work, but please send my apologies,” Draco murmured, lowering his head. 

“I can do this by myself for now, Draco, don’t worry,” Aziza cut in, sharing a sly look with Hermione. 

Draco opened his mouth to make another excuse, but Hermione interrupted him before he could think of one.

“It’s his birthday, Draco,” she said firmly, as though that gave Draco no choice. Admittedly, it seemed rather crass to deny the birthday wish of a hospital patient, so really he did have no choice.

“Fine,” he tutted, pulling the goggles off his head and floating them over to their case. “I would say you can’t have got him many good gifts if _I’m_ his request, but I suppose I can outdo any present.”

Aziza snorted and Hermione rolled her eyes, before she gestured for Draco to follow her.

“Thank you, Aziza,” Hermione said, giving her a small wave as she left the room to stride down the corridor.

Draco stepped in at Hermione’s side, their robes swishing together as they travelled the familiar path through St Mungo’s.

“All the other guests have left now,” Hermione said as they reached the private room where Harry resided—nothing but the best for _The Saviour_. “Just be gentle with him; Harry won’t admit it but I think he’s feeling a little bit overwhelmed.”

“I can do gentle,” Draco responded, shrugging. “Maybe I used to struggle where Harry was concerned, but I managed to smooth things over with you and that overgrown husband of yours, did I not.”

Hermione’s lips curled in a smile. “I’ll just be in the cafe if you need anything. I’ll see you soon.”

Draco watched her retreating back, listening to the clicks of her heels on the floor, before turning towards the door to Harry’s room. Draco stepped closer, peering in through the glass panel. 

The stark white walls that St Mungo’s favoured seemed washed out by the bright colours of the decorations, streamers and balloons and banners, all in red, green, blue, gold, purple, and yellow. Several of them flashed the number _18_ over and over, while equally colourful confetti littered the floor and the bed. 

The room looked incredibly cheerful, which contrasted strongly with the miserable look on Harry’s face as he sat up in the bed. Draco watched, transfixed, as Harry’s fingers toyed with the confetti pieces on the duvet, his eyes downcast.

It was so strange to see Harry sat there moving; Draco had grown so used to seeing him frozen still, almost like he was a china doll. Even through the glass Draco could see how young Harry looked, and though Draco had known Harry hadn’t aged and had seen him stay the same age as the years went by, now Harry was awake it only seemed more surreal. Draco couldn’t imagine how things must feel from Harry’s perspective, and he was glad he didn’t have to.

Harry’s gaze glanced up towards the door and froze as it landed on Draco. Draco quickly opened the door so he didn’t look like he was staring, and was instantly taken aback by how green Harry’s eyes were; he’d almost forgotten how bright they were, vivid like the Killing Curse that had struck Harry twice unsuccessfully. 

Harry’s eyes gave Draco a long look up and down, and though Draco was sure that Harry was just studying his—which was in Harry’s eyes, older—form, he still couldn’t help but feel that Harry was almost undressing him with his eyes. 

The glum look on Harry’s face was gone, replaced with a small smile.

“I always expected you to look like your father when you got older,” Harry said, and his voice went straight to Draco’s knees. “I prefer this look a lot better; stubble suits you.”

Draco had expected to somehow revert back to a snarky, snarling teenager at the sight of Harry, and thankfully that hadn’t happened. What hadn’t happened, however, was for some of his teenage self to resurface—the part Draco had discovered during long nights, just him and his mind and his hand under the bedsheets.

 _Except you’re no longer a teenager and Harry still is_ , his head reminded him. Draco cleared his throat and tugged at his collar uncomfortably.

“I never fancied growing my hair out,” Draco said, trying to compose himself. “Long hair just gets in the way.”

Harry’s smile grew. “And your voice is somehow even posher but kind of husky, too. I like it.”

What Draco wouldn’t have given for the same compliment twenty years ago.

“Hermione said you wanted to see me?” Draco said, trying to ignore the very intense look Harry seemed to be giving him. 

Harry nodded, laughing softly. “It’s so weird hearing both of you use each other’s first names like you’re friends. But yeah, could you...could you sit down a minute?”

Draco nodded, brushing the confetti strands off the chair before he took a seat by Harry’s bedside. He had an idea of what Harry was going to say, so he simply gestured for him to continue.

“I just wanted to thank you, Malfoy,” Harry said, confirming Draco’s assumption. “Hermione told me about the work you both do with Healer Negm, and I appreciate that none of you gave up on me even after all this time.”

“Well we had to wake you up eventually,” Draco replied curtly. “I think you took the phrase _taking a well-earned rest_ to a whole new level.”

Harry grinned. “I do mean what I said, though. I really do appreciate your help.”

“Right,” Draco murmured, clasping his hands in his lap. “I can only apologise that we couldn’t figure it out until twenty years had passed. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a lot of work I need to be getting on with.”

As Draco stood he felt fingers wrap around his wrist. Harry was by no means strong enough to halt Draco, but he froze in place nonetheless. 

“Would you mind staying? Just for a little while?” Harry asked softly. “I go a bit stir-crazy when I’m in here on my own.”

Draco could understand that. It was bad enough sometimes going home to an empty house, even though five years had passed since his divorce and he thought he’d have been used to the feeling by now. But being stuck for three months looking at the same four walls would no doubt make any person miserable. 

Draco sank back down onto the chair. “Consider this my birthday gift for you.”

“My thirty-eighth birthday where I’m turning eighteen,” Harry stated blankly. “I don’t know when things are ever going to stop feeling strange. Do you?”

Draco shook his head. He was finding it peculiar enough sitting and talking to Harry when he’d grown used to seeing him frozen and unconscious—Draco wasn’t a particularly empathic person but he understood that for Harry the situation must be even weirder. 

“You’ve had a lot of strange in your life, though, haven’t you?” Draco pointed out. “I’m sure with time you’ll get used to this, too. And trust me, when you actually do turn thirty-eight you’ll be wishing you were eighteen again.”

Harry hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, at least I don’t have those lines on my face like you do.”

Draco frowned. “What lines?”

“Oh, what are they called? That’s it—wrinkles!”

Draco gasped despite himself and clapped his hand to his cheek.

“I don’t have wrinkles!” he exclaimed, horrified, realising seconds too late that Harry was laughing. “Oh, very funny.”

“I don’t have much to do for entertainment in here,” Harry said once his laughter subsided. “Don’t worry, the only lines on your face are those cheekbones.”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. If he didn’t know any better, he’d almost swear that Harry was flirting with him, though what a teenager would be doing flirting with a man twice his age, Draco didn’t know.

“I meant what I said, though,” Draco said seriously, ignoring Harry’s comment about his cheekbones. “I know this isn’t the best of situations for you but I recommend you take advantage of your youth before you get weighed down with responsibilities...family and career. I think you deserve a break to enjoy yourself.”

Draco didn’t hate his life by any means, but he certainly had a lot more fun in his twenties than he had in his thirties. In some ways, he was jealous that Harry got to experience that youth and freedom that Draco had lost, though he certainly didn’t envy the circumstances. 

Every trace of a smile fell from Harry’s face, and Draco was beginning to suspect that Harry wasn’t having rapid mood swings, but was simply miserable with brief moments of happiness.

“I don’t think St Mungo’s are going to let me out anytime soon to enjoy my life,” Harry huffed, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “I’ve been stuck in this bed for three whole months and I feel _great_ and they still won’t let me leave. Look at me; I even look fine.”

Though Draco was more inclined to trust the Healers rather than their patients, he had to admit that Harry had at least a little bit of a point. When Harry had been placed under the Stasis Charm he had looked skeletal and was littered with bruises and cuts; the result of fighting in a battle following months of living in the wilderness on the run. 

Though Harry was still thin his weight seemed a lot healthier now, and his skin was clear from any sign of injury. Even his hair, which had previously been matted, wild, and down to his shoulders, was now washed and brushed—admittedly still wild—and cut just a touch longer than his ears. It was longer than Draco wore his, but Harry seemed to pull the look off with ease. 

“I’m sure the Healers have their reasons,” Draco offered, and got a scoff in response.

“I know their reasons; apparently they want to keep an eye on me to make sure there are no after-effects of the curse. But it’s been three months and nothing’s happened! And they healed all my organs and everything on the inside so all they’re doing is being overly cautious which means I have to stay stuck in here!” Harry glanced at Draco, his eyes wide. 

“You could stay with me, if you wanted,” Draco said, before he could even think about what he was saying. 

The words were out, though, and Draco couldn’t take them back even if he wanted to—even if all the reasons it was a horrible idea kept floating around his head. 

“Stay with you?” Harry repeated faintly. “Could you do that?”

Then again, some positive aspects to the idea started to reveal themselves to Draco. He had spent the last twenty years making amends for the awful things he’d done in his youth; he’d gone to therapy and given out apologies to people he’d wronged, he’d focused on his job and tried to keep a happy marriage—until it fell apart despite their best efforts to save it—and he’d become a person that he didn’t despise looking at in the mirror.

The last time Draco had properly spoken to Harry had been at a point in Draco’s life when he was filled with self-loathing, but now Draco had shown to himself and everyone _but_ Harry that he was a better person. And what better way to demonstrate his redemption to Harry than by helping him when Harry so desperately needed it?

“I am, for lack of a better term,” Draco said, “a medical Curse-Breaker. Provided the other staff have finished their Healing duties, I can monitor you for curse damage from the comfort of my own home.”

“But don’t you hate me?” Harry queried thoughtfully.

“I don’t hate you, Harry,” Draco said seriously—and truthfully. “Twenty years is a long time; I don’t hold any resentment towards you for the past.”

Harry looked at Draco thoughtfully, somewhat on edge as though he expected Draco to suddenly slap him in the face.

“To be honest I’m willing to go anywhere if it means I’m not in hospital any longer,” Harry said once he’d determined that Draco wasn’t going to assault him. “And Ron and Hermione seem to like you. I mean, Ron does keep referring to you as _that twat Draco_ , but he seems to say it fondly. But I trust their judgement, so if they trust you then so can I. You’re not living at the Manor though, are you?”

Harry’s look of revulsion mirrored how Draco felt.

“Actually I ordered for the Manor to be demolished a few years ago,” Draco answered. “It held too many ghosts—both figuratively and literally.”

“Wasn’t your father furious?” 

“Of course,” Draco smirked. “But he left the country as soon as the war trials were over, with the promise that he wouldn’t return unless he had express permission from the Ministry, and unfortunately for him, to _kill my son_ isn’t a valid reason. He got over it after I sent him all the wine and whiskey we had in the cellar, though.” 

Harry stared at Draco, still seeming unsure what to make of him.

“And you’re sure you wouldn’t mind me staying with you?” Harry asked, his eyes a mixed bundle of wariness and cautious optimism. 

“I’m not in the habit of offering things I’m not willing to give away,” Draco retorted, his smirk growing. “Of course, I can’t promise anything because the decision lies with your Healers rather than me, but I can try and convince them. If I get Healer Negm’s approval that will double your chances; we were both in Slytherin for a reason.”

Harry smiled once more, and Draco had to admit it suited Harry a lot more when he seemed happy.

“Just leave it with me,” Draco added reassuringly. “I’ll try and get you out of here.”

*******

Aziza and Hermione readily agreed with Draco that it would be a good idea to get Harry out of St Mungo’s. Hermione had offered to take Harry in herself, but once Draco explained that he wanted to use the opportunity to make amends with Harry she agreed, albeit a touch reluctantly. But between the three of them they had managed to convince the Healers to agree in no more than five minutes, who simply requested one more week of health checks before they let Harry go for good. They also wanted weekly check-ins for Harry from Draco for at least three months and made him promise to contact them immediately if anything worrying came up.

Once the week of the final health checks finally passed, Draco went down to Harry’s room to collect him. 

Harry was perched on the edge of the bed, a small bag clutched on his lap. He jumped up eagerly the second Draco entered the room, grinning widely. 

“Nothing like curbing your enthusiasm, is there?” Draco commented lightly, giving Harry’s form a quick look up and down. 

The clothes Harry was wearing were a little bit long for him in the sleeves and on the hem of the jeans, and were no doubt borrowed from one of the Weasley brood who all tended to be long and lanky. It was a good job that Draco had already made plans to stop Harry looking like the youngest and shortest son in a money-pinching family. 

“I’m just so happy to be getting out of here,” Harry said, beaming. “Did you know the Healers have literally made me slather myself in salve so the sun doesn’t hurt my skin?”

“Well it has been twenty years and three months since you last saw the sun,” Draco pointed out. “Do you think I ought to mention that you’re missing a sunhat?”

“Don’t you dare!” Harry gasped. “They would actually take you seriously.”

Draco smirked. “Lucky for you I’m feeling nice today. Now, I have a proposition for you. If you want we can go straight back to my house, but I wondered if you might want to go shopping in a Muggle town first? We could get you some clothes of your own, and we could do a bit of food shopping; I have a bad habit of eating on the go so I don’t really have much food that requires cooking in.”

“You could have suggested anything outside and I wouldn’t have turned it down,” Harry grinned. “But what’s wrong with Diagon Alley? It’s not demolished or anything, is it?”

“Not at all,” Draco answered. “But I reckon that seeing your face in public for the first time in twenty years would drive the crowds wild, and I thought you might appreciate avoiding that.”

Harry grimaced at the thought. “Good point.”

Before they left they had to have one final check-in with the Healing staff, and then finally Draco was able to link Harry’s arm with his to Apparate them to the back of Marks and Spencer's in Salisbury. 

The day was pleasantly warm and sunny, and Harry stood with his eyes closed and his arms outstretched, looking entirely too happy for somebody stood in an alley. 

“I’ve missed the outside,” Harry said, opening one eye and peering at Draco. “Do you have a nice garden at your house?”

“It’s so so much a garden but rather a good few acres of land,” Draco smirked. “It’s beautiful, especially in the summer; there’s even a small lake to swim in. We’ll have to get you some swimming shorts, too.”

“I’m not much of a swimmer,” Harry replied with a shrug. “My Aunt and Uncle never bothered to teach me, and I’ve only been in the water twice. The first time was during the Triwizard Tournament when I had Gillyweed on my side, and the second time was in the middle of winter and I nearly drowned.” A sly grin slid onto Harry’s face. “Maybe you’ll just have to get into the water with me to teach me.”

An image of Harry wet and clad in nothing but clinging swimming shorts popped into Draco’s mind unwillingly, beads of water slowly sliding down Harry’s bare body…

Draco shook his head, shaking out the image. _He’s 18_ , he reminded himself firmly. _Just because he’s legal doesn’t mean you can picture him almost naked_. 

“Maybe,” Harry hummed thoughtfully. “We shouldn’t bother with swimming shorts and go for those tiny briefs the professionals wear. Don’t you think that might be a better option?”

Draco promptly choked, and he quickly disguised it as a scoff. “Those are reserved firmly for professionals and middle-aged tourists. Now shall we head into town before we get arrested for loitering?”

“You make it sound like you’ve been arrested for loitering before,” Harry commented. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be in handcuffs.”

Draco reasoned there was a very high chance Harry might kill him before the end of the day if he carried on speaking like he was doing. He chose to ignore Harry’s comment, focusing instead on the names of the shops that Teddy had recommended they go to.

“Marks and Spencer's is good for the basics,” Draco rattled off. “But unless you want to look like a businessman you’ll be better off going to Topman for day-to-day clothes.”

Harry nodded absently, as though he wasn’t listening to a word Draco was saying. He probably wasn’t. Instead, Harry was staring at the crowds of Muggles as they went on their way, some of them busy on their phones, others stood talking in small groups and laughing loudly. The colours of both the clothing and people’s hair were bright and vibrant, and though Draco didn’t know much about Muggle fashion he imagined it was vastly different now to how it was twenty years ago. 

“That girl has pretty hair,” Harry said quietly, jerking his head towards a young woman with a bright pink undercut. “There’s a few like that about; should I dye my hair green or something?”

“It would go very well with your eyes,” Draco teased. “But I think black suits you just fine.”

Harry was quiet as they made their way to the front of Marks and Spencer's, making Draco very glad that he’d been smart enough to avoid Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. Draco found he missed Harry’s chatter, though, even the flirtatious comments that made Draco uncomfortable but for the entirely wrong reasons, and he was glad when Harry finally spoke again.

“They’ve made the bulges on these mannequins a bit large, don’t you think?” Harry said with a small grin.

Maybe Draco wasn’t quite so glad. 

Once they’d finished at Marks and Spencer's they made their way over to Topman, where Harry’s eyes lit up.

“This is all so… _different_!” he exclaimed. “Look at these designs on the t-shirts! This one has dragons, Draco!” 

“Pick a few things out and try them on,” Draco suggested, watching with mild amusement as Harry grabbed almost everything he walked past. “I said a few things,” Draco repeated lightly. “I think you can only take so many at a time into the changing room.”

“You’ll have to hold some for me and swap them when I’m ready,” Harry retorted, leading Draco around the store at least three times before he finally made his way towards the changing rooms. “I had to live in the same few clothes while we were on the run,” Harry added, lowering his voice. “I don’t normally care about fashion or whatever, but when you’ve been deprived for so long…”

Harry grabbed a handful of his selection and thrust the rest at Draco before he disappeared behind one of the changing room doors, appearing periodically to show Draco the options and get his opinion. 

“You’re a stylish man; you’d know,” Harry had told him.

The first part of the impromptu fashion show had been fine, just Harry modelling several t-shirts with graphic designs of skulls and stripes and palm trees, plus a few hoodies thrown into the mix. 

But then Harry started modelling his jeans. Draco had never really paid much attention to the currently popular style of jeans, but now Harry was wearing them Draco suddenly realised how tight they were.

“Skinny jeans, hmm?” Harry commented, thankfully oblivious to Draco staring helplessly at his slender, shapely legs that were clad tightly in denim. “Tighter than I’m used to but these seem to be in. I think I like them, though; do you?”

“Huh?” Draco blinked. “I mean, yes; they look...they look great.”

Draco didn’t think it could get any worse until Harry modelled a pair that had rips purposefully torn into them, revealing the smooth skin of Harry’s knees and thighs. One pair had a rip so large that almost the entire bottom half of Harry’s left thigh was on show, and Draco had given up on not staring at that point.

“These are so cool!” Harry said excitedly, spinning around and giving Draco a good glimpse of the curves of his arse. “I really like these….are you alright, Malfoy? You’ve gone kind of pale—er, paler, I mean.”

“I’m fine,” Draco croaked, pressing his legs tightly together to try and disguise the bulge in his trousers; he’d always been an arse man. “Just getting a bit hungry, I think; I missed breakfast this morning.”

“Oh,” Harry murmured, oblivious to Draco’s lie. “I’ve just got a couple more things to try on, then we can go eat somewhere if you want.”

 _He’s 18_ , Draco reminded himself again. _He’s 18 and has a great arse but he’s 18_. 

Before they left Harry managed to sweet-talk him into sweet-talking the shop worker to let Harry use the changing room so he could wear his newly bought clothes. Draco immediately regretted his decision when Harry came out wearing the jeans with the biggest tears in them. 

“Do you like chicken?” Draco asked, steering the conversation to a normal topic like a responsible adult. “I’ve heard the Muggles like this place called Nando’s.”

“That sounds fine,” Harry said, now walking with a bit more confidence than when they had first arrived in Salisbury. 

Nando’s was bright and cheerful, and fairly busy but without being loud and crowded. They were served quickly, and both chose to go for the mild lemon and herb sauce with their chicken. When it arrived Harry tucked in like a starving man, and the look on his face suggested it was the best thing he’d eaten for a long time.

Draco had eaten at St Mungo’s cafe before, so he could understand where Harry was coming from after three months of being forced to eat hospital food. 

“You’re different to how I thought you’d be, you know,” Harry commented, finally looking up from his food.

“How so?” Draco asked, somewhat wary but keeping his tone light.

“You’re, I don’t know, _nice_ ,” Harry answered with a grin. “Not that I expected you to be all _blah blah, I hate you Scarhead, blah blah, my father_ , but I guess you’re more grown up than I thought. Not that it’s anything personal against you,” he added quickly. “I’m the same with Ron and Hermione….well, not Hermione, to be honest, but Ron’s a dad now! He’s more like _his_ father than the Ron I knew. Do you have children?” 

Draco shook his head. “I never wanted any. They always seemed like a bit of a handful, and I have too much interest in my career. I hardly saw my father growing up because of his work and I didn’t want to have a child of my own and make them go through the same thing. Astoria—my ex-wife—always wanted children, though, which was just one of the reasons we ended up getting divorced.”

“I always imagined you getting married to Pansy Parkinson, you know,” Harry said, which made Draco grimace. 

“I know I shouldn’t say this considering she’s a friend, but thank goodness I didn’t,” Draco retorted with a dramatic shudder for emphasis, which made Harry grin. 

“And do you spend a lot of time in the Muggle world?” Harry asked. “You seem to know your way round pretty well; I never imagined you doing that, either.”

“I’m not going to pretend I come often,” Draco answered, shrugging. “But I realised a long time ago that shouldn’t hate or ignore a culture living right next door. I know enough to make my way confidently, but I do prefer to stick to _our_ places.”

Harry gave Draco a deep look, looking uncertain for a moment before relaxing. 

“You really have grown up a lot,” Harry finally said, smiling. “I think I might be growing fond of this _mature_ Draco Malfoy.”

The way Harry said the word mature somehow sounded positively indecent, but Harry just took a sip of his drink, looking entirely innocent. 

Yes, Harry may well end up killing Draco, but at least death by sexual frustration wouldn’t be too bad a way to go.

*******

Draco woke up to the sound of screaming.

It seemed to stop as suddenly as it had started, and though Draco's heart was pounding in his chest he wasn't quite sure if it had actually happened or if he had dreamt it.

Then he heard a door creak open and soft footsteps padding down the hallway, heading towards the stairs.

Nothing seemed to suggest urgency, but Draco supposed it'd be best to check it out.

Rubbing at his eyes Draco slid out of bed, pulling on a dressing gown before opening the door and stepping out onto the hallway.

The door to the room that Draco had set Harry up in was open, and when Draco peered inside he found it empty. The duvet covers were tossed aside, hanging over the edge of the bed, but there weren’t any signs of anything bad having happened. Draco imagined that Harry had simply had a nightmare.

He considered simply going back to bed and leaving Harry to it, but a stabbing feeling in his stomach much like guilt prevented him from doing so.

So with a resigned yawn, Draco made his way downstairs.

Harry was sat on the sofa in the living room, a glass of water that was nearly empty placed on the coffee table in front of him.

Harry jumped when Draco cleared his throat, and he quickly turned to face him with a forced smile plastered on his face.

"Sorry; did I wake you?" Harry asked, his voice hoarse. 

"It's alright," Draco replied, taking the seat beside Harry. "I just wanted to check you were alright,"

"’M’fine," Harry said with a shrug. "Nightmares, you know?"

Draco did know. "Every so often, I still wake up and can feel the heat of the Fiendfyre around me, or see Nagini's glowing eyes, or hear Voldemort's cold laughter in my ears. The nightmares don't come very often anymore, but I remember the first couple of years after the war I didn't think I'd ever be able to fall asleep without waking up screaming. I know this isn't much help to hear now, but it does get better in time."

Harry nodded, his fingers reaching out to curl around the glass without picking it up.

"I see the dead. Voldemort, too, but it's the ones dead because of him that I see...the ones I couldn't save. Does it really get better or are you just saying that?"

"It really does," Draco murmured. "It just takes time. If you want I can give you a bit of Dreamless Sleep. It's not something you should take every night but if you feel like you ever need it..."

Harry hesitated for a moment. “Would you be able to get me some now? If you’ve got any in.”

Draco always kept some Dreamless Sleep in his bathroom cabinet, just in case he needed it, so he nodded and got up, returning a few minutes later with a potion vial in his hands. 

“Don’t you want to go back to bed?” Draco asked, frowning, as Harry took the vial and downed it without making any move to return to his room. 

"I'm alright down here," Harry muttered softly, closing his eyes. "You can sit with me for a bit, if you want."

Draco would much rather go back to bed, but he couldn't much like the idea of leaving Harry on the sofa by himself either.

"Budge up, then," Draco said, sitting next to Harry again. 

Harry didn't budge up, leaving them pressed closely side-by-side. Harry's body felt warm and somehow more comfortable than Draco's bed. Then Harry dropped his head onto Draco's shoulder and it a whole other thing.

Draco had to be quite honest with himself and admit that he had had quite the crush on Harry back at school, one he'd disguised with malice and insults. Then Harry had been cursed and frozen, Draco had met and fallen in—and later out of—love with Astoria, and things had moved on.

Draco for some reason had expected the hatred to return and not the attraction, but it had turned out quite the opposite. But though Draco and Harry were theoretically the same age, they also theoretically weren't. Draco had twenty years on Harry in mind and body, and though Harry was of legal consenting age and not actually Draco's patient despite the circumstances, Draco still couldn't help but feel like his attraction was inappropriate.

Which apparently wasn't enough to stop him enjoying having Harry curled up asleep next to him, but Draco wasn't going to push any further than that—he couldn't.

Draco must have fallen asleep too, because next thing he knew it was daylight, he was alone on the sofa with an ache in his neck, and the smell of cooking bacon wafted through the house.

Rubbing his face with his hands and quickly straightening up his hair, Draco stood and made his way over to the kitchen where he found a table full of sausages, eggs, and French Toast, and Harry stood by the stove frying off bacon. 

"Not that I'm complaining," Draco said. "But you didn't have to do all this."

Harry glanced at Draco over his shoulder, giving him a smile.

"I remember you said you weren't much of a cook," Harry replied, sliding the cooked bacon onto a plate. "So I thought I'd make you a cooked breakfast to say thank you for taking me in...and for last night."

"Well that's very nice of you," Draco murmured, resting his hand on the edge of the dining table. "I really don't expect you to have to cook for me, though."

"Sit down...and I don't mind," Harry said, taking a seat and gesturing for Draco to do the same. "My aunt and uncle always had me cooking to earn my keep, they said."

Draco frowned. "Weren't you a child? Why does a child need to earn their keep?"

"They never wanted to take me in; I was a burden on them so I suppose it was their way of making me worth it," Harry answered, shrugging.

Draco wondered if anyone ever knew what a job Harry's so-called relatives had done on him, the rotten Muggles.

"As I said, I'm not complaining but I really don't want you to feel like you _have_ to cook," Draco emphasised. "You don't need to earn your keep or anything like that here."

"I know my aunt and uncle were kinda fucked up," Harry said. "But I only did this for you now because I _wanted_ to, don't worry."

"Just don't let me catch you doing any more chores," Draco joked. "The house-elf service comes round twice a day anyway?"

"House-elf service?" Harry repeated, eyes widening and a grin sliding onto his face. "Did Hermione get S.P.E.W going properly, then? Good for her."

Draco inwardly groaned.

*******

Draco could have never believed it possible for Harry to sit so still.

Harry could be quiet, yes, which had surprised Draco at first too but he’d quickly grown used to, but even when he was silent Harry would always be tapping his feet or moving his hands. Draco had idly wondered if it was an effect of being placed under a Stasis Charm for so long.

“Yes, I think you’re all good,” Draco murmured, giving Harry’s body one last check with his wand before determining that he was all clear of any possible curse side-effects. 

“I knew St Mungo’s were being too cautious,” Harry huffed, breaking out of his almost frozen state immediately by crossing his arms over his chest and drumming his fingers against one of them. “You do the checks much nicer as well; the Healers got all invasive.”

“Healers deal with so many patients that I think they sometimes forget that their idea of dignity is different to the people they’re dealing with,” Draco commented. “That’s why I never wanted to be a Healer myself.”

“Being a medical Curse-Breaker is much cooler, anyway,” Harry said with a grin. “Maybe you should teach me how to do that so I don’t have to go back to school. I still can’t believe Hermione’s making me do that.”

“You’re not exactly going back to school,” Draco pointed out with amusement. “You’re going to go one night a week for private tutoring so you can get your N.E.W.Ts which you’ll definitely need in today’s job market. Besides, you don’t have to go until September so you have the perfect excuse to do nothing for the summer.”

Harry inclined his head in agreement. 

“Anyway, I’ll just write a brief report and send it to St Mungo’s, and then we can go out, if you want,” Draco continued. “Maybe Diagon Alley or Salisbury again?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m fine staying in today.”

Draco frowned. Harry may have been physically fine, but Draco was a little bit worried about his emotional state. Despite being so excited to finally be out of hospital, Harry had only really been out of the house that one time when he’d first been released. Harry did spend a lot of time in the garden, but he hadn’t ventured any further than that.

Harry had also turned down most visitors aside from Ron and Hermione, and though he was friendly enough with them and very chatty with Draco—almost flirtatious at times, even—Draco was still worried about his lack of socialisation. 

Part of him, naturally, was pleased that Harry was happy to spend the majority of his time with Draco, but then his conscience reminded him that that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. 

“You’ve been living here a week and haven’t gone far,” Draco said seriously, leaning back and resting his hands on the kitchen counter. “Are you nervous about going outside?”

“No, I’m not _nervous_ ,” Harry answered, sounding very offended by the idea. “I’m just...it’s weird to me, and living here with you is nice and I can kind of forget that I’ve missed out on twenty years of my life. And I know you’re all mature and handsome now but I’ve grown used to that; there’s just so many more things I need to get used to, and honestly I’m much happier avoiding that.”

Draco chose to ignore Harry describing him as handsome, even though the voice in the back of his head was cheering. 

“Avoiding problems does make for a pleasant experience,” Draco agreed. “But it doesn’t make them go away. Staying in my house forever isn’t going to change the fact that the world and the people in it have aged twenty years while you haven’t. I know that must be hard to face, but you have to do it at some point. How about we go and see some of your friends today? Just a couple of them, so it isn’t too daunting? That’s what my therapist suggested when I didn’t know how to deal with something; break it down into pieces I _could_ deal with.”

“You’ve been to therapy? What’s that like?”

Harry’s smile was innocent but Draco wasn’t falling for it.

“A great place to discuss bad behaviours like _avoidance_ ,” Draco answered, looking at Harry pointedly. 

“ _Fine_ ,” Harry huffed. “I’ll go and see my _friends_ , if I really have to.”

“You make it sound as though I’ve asked you to meet up with a Dementor or something,” Draco exclaimed, rolling his eyes affectionately “Hmm, I know someone as far from a Dementor as possible; how about we visit Luna? And Ginny?”

“Uh, sure; I like those two,” Harry nodded.

“That is generally how people feel towards their friends,” Draco teased, grinning when Harry stuck his middle finger up at him. 

“There’s another reason you’d never have worked as a Healer; you have no bedside manner,” Harry retorted with a sly grin of his own. “That being said, I wouldn’t object to having you by my bedside.”

Draco swallowed hard. He really was trying to resist his attraction to Harry, but Harry certainly wasn’t making it easy for him. But Draco was the older one here; he was the one who was supposed to be responsible, and flirting back with eighteen-year-olds was not a responsible thing to do—no matter how much he wanted to respond.

_Never mind the bedside; I’m more interested in the bed itself._

“I’ll go Floo Luna and see if they’re in,” Draco said instead, quite certain he had imagined the look of disappointment on Harry’s face. 

Luna and Ginny were indeed in and were very pleased to hear from Harry, even though Draco was doing the talking for him. Draco and Harry used to Floo to travel to the Lovegood-Weasley cottage just moments later, their hosts insisting that they were welcome to come round ‘ _right away_ ’. 

Ginny pulled Harry into a tight hug when she saw him, but Luna, perhaps noticing Harry tensing like Draco had, simply stood back and offered him a reassuring smile. 

Luna and Ginny’s home seemed to get brighter and more colourful every time Draco visited it. They had adopted a set of twins a couple of years ago, and they seemed to have the same creative flair as their adoptive mother, Luna. Though Draco never wanted children of his own, it still brought a smile to his face to look at the twin’s crayon-scribbled drawings of their new family—it was nice to see a genuinely happy family, not like his own which had been somehow both loving and cold at the same time. 

“Is Draco taking good care of you, Harry?” Ginny asked, shoving Draco’s shoulder with her own lightly. 

Though Draco liked Ginny well enough, she was still a little much too Weasley for him at times. Harry, on the other hand, seemed to like that, and he grinned at her antics, albeit his smile was strained a little.

“He does alright,” Harry replied, glancing at Draco and giving him a _different_ smile; one that was genuine and heartfelt, and made Draco’s knees weak.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Ginny said. “Oh! You _have_ to see the garden! I’ve made my own mini Quidditch pitch and I know you’re going to _love_ it! Draco and I play pickup games sometimes; you’ll have to join us!”

“Well there’s a positive spin on my circumstances; I’ve definitely got youth on my side now,” Harry teased. 

Ginny was the only one to look uncomfortable. Draco had grown used to Harry using humour to hide his discomfort at the changes in his life, and he doubted that there was much at all that could make Luna uncomfortable. 

“We’ll have to put that to the test,” Ginny retorted, disguising her unease quickly and subtly—Draco commended her for that. 

“It’s very nice to have Harry back with us, isn’t it?” Luna said once Ginny had led Harry to the garden. “

"Honestly, I don't quite know what I was expecting but I've enjoyed having him around," Draco answered. _For the most part_.

Luna nodded. "Is that why your crush on him has resurfaced?" She asked, very casually; trust Luna to pick up on the unspoken _most part_. 

"Shh!" He hissed, glancing towards the window where he could see Ginny and Harry in the garden studying a pair of brooms. He lowered his voice nonetheless. "It's not a _crush_ ; I have simply grown a touch too fond of him. I won't act on it, though; I'm far too old for him."

"Harry is perfectly capable of deciding who he wants, and age is just a number," Luna said wisely, peering at Draco with those wide, all-perceiving eyes of hers. "And for what it's worth, I think you two would make a lovely couple."

Draco's friendship with Luna had been surprising to him at first. He had apologised to her, she'd invited him in for a drink because ' _apologies go down better with tea_ ', and next thing Draco knew they were having tea at least once a week and had been doing for almost nineteen years.

Even then, Luna's ability to see right into his soul, and her willingness to share the truth—any truth—with him, still took him by surprise.

Luna seemed to think nothing out of the ordinary with her statement, and led Draco to the kitchen for drinks. She hummed to herself as she made up some fruity concoction, but Draco could still hear Harry and Ginny clearly as they approached.

"I wish I'd known you were bi too when we were at school," Harry said. "I might have understood my feelings a lot easier if I knew it was a real thing and not something I'd made up."

Ginny's response sounded garbled to Draco's ears, because all he could focus on was Harry's revelation.

So he was bi, just like Draco? Obviously Draco had noticed Harry's blatant flirting, but that hadn't felt like definitive proof that Harry was actually attracted to men.

Now Draco knew that Harry was, and that he could actually have a chance if only he wasn't twenty years older than Harry, it made his own feelings towards Harry somehow both better and worse at the same time.

"Slip a bit of vodka in mine, will you?" Draco hissed to Luna before Harry came in.

The conversation turned light and cheerful when all four of them were in the kitchen, but Draco couldn't stop pondering over Harry's words.

"You were quiet," Harry said once they were back home. "Are you alright? Normally you never shut up."

"Just have a bit of a headache," Draco lied. "How about you? Did you manage ok seeing them today?"

Harry shrugged. "A little bit weird, but I'm glad their kids were with their grandparents because that would have been weirder. They seem to make a nice couple, though."

"Yeah," Draco agreed, perhaps unwisely deciding he was going to come out to Harry. "The three of us go to LGBT pride events together actually, because we're all bi—well, Luna's pansexual, but you know what I mean."

"I'm bi, too," Harry said, and Draco wondered for a moment why Harry was telling him that again, when he remembered that Draco had only been eavesdropping earlier. "I was a bit confused about it at school, but St Mungo's have a lot of pamphlets—I read them all for something to do—and it helped clear things up for me."

"Well that's good, that's very good," Draco answered, watching as Harry slowly brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. 

Harry caught Draco staring and smiled, that same smile as earlier which made Draco's knees weak and his heart sore. 

Yes, Draco had almost definitely understated his feelings about Harry to Luna earlier. 

_You two would make a lovely couple_.

*******

Draco couldn't sleep.

He liked Luna a lot, but damn did she have a tendency to pull at Draco's inner-most thoughts and make him acutely aware of them. There was no denial or repression when Luna was involved.

 _You two would make a lovely couple_.

Sure, physically they'd look good together, a contrast between Draco's pale colourings and Harry's brighter ones.

But Harry was so much younger than Draco was. Even if sometimes Harry acted older than he was, that was only because he'd been forced to fight a war to save himself from being hunted by a Dark Lord.

And even if Harry liked Draco too, like Luna claimed, that didn't mean anything. Yes, Harry was old enough to know and decide who he wanted, but he couldn't _really_ like Draco, could he? To Harry, Draco must seem like an old man, perhaps confusing respect or admiration with attraction.

Or given Harry's history with father figures, maybe he just had a thing for older men. Rather than putting Draco off that thought instead led to a coil of pleasure twisting in his stomach, and he buried his face in his hands.

It just wasn’t fair. Draco wanted Harry, and he was quite confident that Harry wanted him to, but the damn age gap got in the way. If Harry hadn’t been cursed then he’d have aged at the same rate as Draco, and maybe he’d have become friends with him like he’d done with the other ex-Gryffindors, and a relationship could have developed between them naturally. 

But instead, Draco had aged over twenty years and was then confronted with his schoolyard crush appearing _exactly_ as he had when they’d both been teenagers. Harry _was_ a teenager, and legal or not Draco couldn’t bring himself to act on his desires. 

Harry needed somebody his own age, somebody who wasn’t just about old enough to be his father. 

Draco huffed, rolling onto his side in an attempt to get more comfortable. He’d finally managed to close his eyes and drift off when he heard screaming coming from the room across the hall. 

He jumped out of bed, hurrying over to Harry’s room. He knew from experience now, that on the nights Harry didn’t take Dreamless Sleep that he either had nightmares that he’d eventually wake himself from, or night terrors that could leave Harry screaming and thrashing around for far too long. Draco knew the signs of which was which very well now, and the commotion Harry was making now definitely made him think it was a night terror.

Indeed, when he pushed open the door to Harry’s room he saw the duvet covers on the floor, and Harry violently thrashing about in the bed. Draco hurried over to him, leaning over the bed and grabbing Harry’s shoulders.

“Harry! Harry!” he hissed urgently. “Wake up!”

He added a touch more pressure to his hold on Harry, and with a louder call of his name Harry’s eyes finally snapped open, looking wildly past Draco until he realised what was going on. 

Without warning Harry’s hands curled into Draco’s pyjama top and pulled him close, burying his head against Draco’s chest. One of Draco’s hands rested on the bed so he didn’t topple over, but his other arm instinctively curled Harry’s body.

“You’re alright, Harry,” Draco murmured softly. “It was just a dream.”

Draco lowered his head and breathed in the gentle tang of Harry’s hair, the softness of it brushing against his nose. Draco couldn’t help himself; he pressed his nose further down and tightened his hold around Harry. He wanted Harry to feel safe. He wanted Harry to feel safe with _him_. 

“I should go back to my room now,” Draco said after allowing himself a few moments of enjoying the feeling of Harry in his arms. “Are you alright?”

Harry nodded against Draco’s chest, seeming reluctant to let go of him.

Draco wanted to stay, he really did, but he was an adult and he had to be the one who was responsible. Harry was an adult, too, yes, but he was still so young...Draco really couldn’t pine over him like this.

_You two would make a lovely couple._

They would. They could. But they shouldn’t. It really wasn’t fair.

Draco never did manage to get back to sleep.

*******

Draco had spent the entire day on edge. He hadn’t slept well during the night, and Harry had gone from clinging onto him desperately to flirting with him and making any excuse to touch him, like brushing their hands together on the many occasions Harry suddenly had something to hand to Draco, or sitting as close as possible to Draco as he could and brushing their legs together.

It was driving Draco quite inside, and he really needed to blow off some steam. 

“I was thinking about going to a nightclub tonight,” Draco said as they ate dinner. 

Harry had made spaghetti with tomato sauce, and was making quite the show of twirling the pasta around his fork and using his tongue far more than necessary; Draco thought it was a quite ridiculous way to eat spaghetti but that wasn’t enough to stop him watching intently. 

“Both of us or just you?” Harry asked. “I’m alright here on my own if you want a night to yourself or something.”

Draco wasn’t averse to Harry coming with him by any means—it would be good for Harry, in fact—but Draco’s goal for the night meeting other men who were around Draco’s age and could hopefully convince him that he didn’t need to pine over an eighteen-year-old who also deserved somebody his own age. 

“Both of us, actually,” Draco answered. “You’re eighteen now but as far as I’m aware you haven’t had a night out yet, so I thought you might enjoy it.”

Harry pondered over the proposition for a moment. “I’ve never been to a club before so I suppose it won’t feel weird because I can’t compare it to the past. I’m not much of a dancer, though. Maybe you could teach me.”

Somehow Draco couldn’t bring himself to outright say no. “No doubt there’ll be people lining up to dance with you. Oh, we’ll need to forge you a Muggle ID. The Ministry are issuing them now, but requests take at least a week to clear.”

Forging ID was easy enough, although it did cause a bit of a flutter in Draco’s stomach to see Harry’s year of birth written as _2000_. Then he reminded himself that part of the reason they were going out tonight was so that they could dance with people of a suitable age and enjoy doing so. 

Draco tried to keep that confident line of thinking up, even though it became much harder when Harry came downstairs wearing those tight jeans with massive tears that he loved so much, and which drove Draco wild. 

Draco himself had opted for slim-fitting though not overly tight dark-washed jeans, and a silvery grey jumper that brought out the colour in his eyes. Harry gave him a slow look up and down before offering Draco an appreciative smile. 

“You look very handsome,” Harry said, biting down on his lip. “How do I look?”

He twirled slowly, seeming to pause halfway to allow Draco a good look at his arse. Draco really couldn’t deny that Harry’s arse didn’t turn him on chronically, and that he didn’t long to get his hands on it and feel those perfectly round, firm globes under his fingertips. 

Draco would just have to find somebody tonight who was his own age and also had an exquisite arse. 

“Draco?” Harry prompted, looking at Draco in amusement.

“Oh, very nice,” Draco answered quickly. “I mean, your hair’s a bit scruffy but I’m beginning to think it will never be anything less.”

“Maybe you should get your hands in there, see if you can sort it out,” Harry offered, taking a step closer to Draco and brushing something off his shoulder. Draco could feel the point where Harry’s fingers had touched him even after they’d moved on.

“Even my skilled fingers couldn’t sort that mess out,” Draco teased. Good, he was keeping things light, like the mature adult he was.

“Skilled finger, hmm?” Harry all but purred, making Draco’s thoughts go to the place of a very non-mature adult. “What else are they good at?”

Draco cleared his throat in a desperate attempt to clear his head. “Forging you an ID, for one,” he said, managing to keep his voice cool. He passed the plastic card over to Harry, who frowned as he looked down at it. 

“2000? That’s...yeah,” Harry muttered. He glanced back up, forcing a smile on his face.“Shall we get going, then? Where are we going, anyway? Back to Salisbury?”

“I was planning on Canal Street, actually, in Manchester,” Draco answered. “A gay club, if that’s alright with you?”

Harry nodded eagerly. “That sounds fun.”

Draco took Harry’s arm and Apparated them to Manchester, and when they stepped out from the dark alley onto the main street the crowd was already bustling, full of smiling faces and raucous laughter. It was to be expected to a Friday night, and Draco didn’t mind at all that Harry kept their arms linked as the wove through the crowds. 

“Not too much, is it?” Draco asked, glancing at Harry who, to his surprise, seemed more enthralled rather than nervous. 

The bright lights of the bars and clubs illuminated Harry’s face, capturing the smooth curves and the vibrancy of his eyes. Harry looked beautiful—and youthful—and he deserved better than an older man who would only slow down with age while Harry still had the freedom to explore the world. Maybe Harry would learn that tonight, and they could both find someone their own age.

“It’s brilliant,” Harry answered, turning to Draco beaming. His eyes drew away as a group of very scantily clad men strolled past, and his grin grew. “It’s like _magic_ , even without it, you know?”

Draco allowed himself a smile at Harry’s enthusiasm, and proceeded to his favourite club. It was still early—at least for a club, only 9:40—and it mainly worked as a bar until half ten when the lights would dim and the music would grow. Draco also enjoyed the particular club because it attracted people of all ages, from 18 to 60, and he never felt like he was desperately clinging his youth, unlike at some of those other, more trendy bars. 

The club was bathed in purple light and wasn’t overly busy just yet. That meant they were able to roll straight up to the bar, where a bartender served them almost immediately. He was young himself, perhaps twenty to so, and was quite similar to Blaise Zabini when he had been that age, aside from the fact that Blaise would have considered dyed pink hair and a lip ring to be incredibly garish.

“Hello, darling,” the boy said, giving Harry a dazzling smile and ignoring Draco completely. “Mind showing me some ID, love?”

Harry passed it over with a shy grin, and, as expected, Draco’s handiwork was perfectly done and the ID was given back without question. 

“What can I get you two boys this evening?” the bartender asked, leaning over the bar so the skimpy vest he was wearing gave them even more of a view than it already was. 

“Er.” Harry glanced over at Draco, suddenly alarmed. “Beer?”

“You don’t come to a place like this for beer,” Draco tutted. “I’ll have a Martini, and for Harry...well, what would you suggest…?”

“Benji,” the bartender—Benji—supplied. “How about a Cosmopolitan, as sweet as Harry himself?”

Draco tried to ignore the stab of jealousy as Benji outrighted flirted with Harry, which got even harder when Harry flirted back. Even when Benji had to serve other customers, Draco could see other men eyeing Harry up hungrily. 

But the men eyeing Harry up all looked to be around his age, which was what Harry needed. So let him have his fun and talk to young men who might turn out of be the perfect boyfriend for him. Draco shared nursed a couple of drinks with Harry before leaving him to it; a group had flocked close to Harry already, and he seemed to be at ease chatting with a blonde boy who looked eerily similar to Draco, only Harry’s age. 

Draco lost himself in the crowd, the alcohol in his system making him feel relaxed and _good_. The lights were starting to dim and the music was picking up in volume, and he remembered why he so often enjoyed coming to clubs like this in the first place. Just every so often, when he really needed it, it was fun to let off some steam. 

He found himself dancing with a man named Rob, who was a couple of years older than Draco, and had sleek glasses, a face full of laughter lines, and a great arse. Rob drank gin, smoked cigarettes, and worked as a banker. He was a mature adult who knew who he was and what he wanted, and even though Draco was enjoying talking to Rob and feeling his arse grinding against him as they danced together, Draco still couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. 

Rob didn’t seem to notice, so Draco knocked back another shot of his Martini and pulled Rob’s hips closer. Eventually, Draco began to push Harry to the back of his mind and actually enjoy himself, and was just about to ask Rob if he wanted to head to one of the nearby hotels when he felt someone tug at his sleeve.

Draco turned, expecting to see Harry, but instead found himself face-to-face with Benji the bartender. 

“Sorry to bother you,” Benji said. “But that cute sugar baby of yours is pretty much passed out in the bathroom.”

Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s not my…” But not feeling up to arguing the point, Draco apologised to Rob and pushed his way through the crowd until he found the bathroom door.

The bathroom stank of piss and was scrawled with graffiti, and Draco knew for a fact that there was at least one glory hole. The floor was tacky under Draco’s shoes, which was why he couldn’t help but cringe when he saw Harry sat on the floor by the sink.

“Remind me to make sure you’re clean before you sit on anything when we get home,” Draco said, drawing Harry’s attention to him for the first time.

“Draco!” Harry exclaimed loudly, making the other man in the bathroom snigger loudly until Draco shot him a glare. “Pretty, pretty Draco!”

As soon as the other man left Draco cast a Locking Charm on the door and crossed the room to haul Harry up by the arm. Harry almost toppled over and gripped Draco to hold himself up, throwing both of his arms around Draco’s neck. 

Harry’s breath was fruity but with the overbearing tang of alcohol, and his body was warm and relaxed against Draco’s.

“Di’you have a nice night, Draco?” Harry slurred, nuzzling his head against Draco’s cheek. “It’s been real fun.”

“I can see that,” Draco said with a grimace. It wasn’t that he was judging Harry—Draco had been eighteen once himself, after all—but dealing with drunks wasn’t his favourite thing to do.

“You know, Draco,” Harry said seriously. “You know? You’re so… _sexy_. You’re like...the sexiest person I know.”

“I think you need to go to bed,” Draco responded, closing his eyes as he felt Harry’s hard length poking into his thigh. “You should-”

“I wanna go to bed with _you_ ,” Harry exclaimed, staring intently right at Draco’s eyes. “I wanna go to your bed and have your-”Harry paused to hiccup“-your hands all over me. One of the boys asked me if you were my Daddy, and I can call you Daddy if you want. Do you want me to? Woah, I’m dizzy.”

“I’m gonna take us back now, alright?” Draco said, holding Harry tight as they Disapparated.

Draco would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit turned on. The Daddy kink wasn’t really his thing, admittedly, but Harry’s desperation and _desire_ was almost overwhelming. 

But…“You’re drunk, Harry,” Draco said seriously, barely catching Harry as he almost fell over from Disapparating. “You’re not going to have sex with anybody in this state.”

“Jonno wanted me to, but Benji punched him in the face,” Harry mumbled, laughing at the memory. Draco had no idea who Jonno was, but that Benji lad seemed alright. “Draco I-I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Thankfully Harry made it to the toilet time, and while he was hunched over it Draco took the opportunity to cast a handful of Cleaning Charms on the both of them. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” Draco murmured, helping Harry up and guiding him to his room. “I’m going to get you an anti-sickness potion so you don’t choke in your sleep.”

Harry was almost asleep when Draco returned with the potion, but he managed to get it down Harry’s throat before he completely passed out.

“You’re s’good to me, Draco,” Harry said softly, wrapping his duvet tightly around himself. “I like-I like that you’re not mean anymore. You’re a good one, Draco. Never stop believing in yourself.”

“Go to sleep, Harry,” Draco replied sternly, but he allowed himself an affectionate smile. 

So the night hadn’t gone quite to plan. But quite honestly, Draco was a little bit drunk himself and didn’t have the energy to care just yet; that could be a problem for the next day.

*******

Thankfully, the next morning around half eleven, Draco was woken by a Floo call from Hermione asking if Draco would be able to bring a bottle of wine round for their scheduled lunch.

Draco pretended very well that he wasn’t hungover, and that he hadn’t completely forgotten they’d made lunch plans, and as soon as the Floo call ended Draco ran to Harry’s room and banged on the door loudly.

“We’re supposed to at Ron and Hermione’s in less than half an hour!” he called through the wood.

“Shit!” came the muffled reply, followed by frantic shuffling about.

The rush to get ready unexpectedly meant that Draco didn’t have much time to dwell on the previous night, and certainly even less time to talk to Harry about it—if he was even going to talk to Harry about it; he hadn’t decided yet. 

Draco grabbed the first wine bottle he came across in his storage, and somehow when they arrived at Ron and Hermione’s home, neither Draco or Harry looked like they’d just woken up following a night out drinking. 

Hermione pulled Harry into a tight hug as soon as he arrived, and Ron took her place almost as soon as she let go.

“Don’t even think about hugging me, Ron,” Draco said lightly, feigning disgust

“Like that thought would even have crossed my mind,” Ron teased back. 

Rose and Hugo were conveniently out, and Harry seemed a lot more at ease than he had with his friends for a while. He barely seemed to glance in Draco’s direction, until he sat down next to him at the table and immediately brushed his leg against Draco’s.

Draco turned to look at him sharply, but Harry simply gave him an innocent smile and asked Ron how working as an Auror was going. Draco would have written it off as an accident, had Harry’s hand not dropped beneath the table to brush Draco’s knee.

Harry didn’t even look at him that time, just carried on talking to Ron as though he had a great interest in hearing about lousy applicants who only wanted the glamour of being an Auror and were otherwise useless. 

Draco would have called Ron an old man complaining about kids if he hadn’t thought the comment might be in poor taste with Harry around.

“You’re ever so grumpy, Ron,” Draco settled for instead. “Dare I even say that your attitude towards the Auror students reminds me of one Professor Snape.”

Ron’s open mouthed, outright insulted expression was priceless. He couldn’t enjoy it for long, though, now when Harry’s hand slid onto his knee and squeezed. 

Thankfully Harry’s hand never strayed any higher; he clearly had more decency than to openly feel him up in front of company. Harry certainly seemed comfortable with what he was doing, though, and towards the end of lunch he seemed to have eyes for Draco only. 

And Draco wasn’t exactly adverse to the attention or the touches, he just didn’t like the guilt that went along with it.

Draco decided to do the one thing he could think of—he slid his own hand onto Harry's thigh and squeezed, because at least then they were equal footing.

Harry turned his gasp of surprise into a cough, which Ron and Hermione didn't seem to notice. 

Draco gave Harry a sly smirk of his own before turning back to his lunch as though nothing was going on.

"We did want to ask you something, Harry," Ron said carefully.

Harry nodded, but his attention didn't seem to be focused on Ron in the slightest. 

"We're having a summer party the weekend after next at the Burrow," Ron pressed on. "All the kids will be there, my parents, my brothers and Ginny...everyone, basically. You're invited, of course, but I know the prospect might seem a little, I don't know, daunting to you."

"No, I'll come, sounds fun," Harry murmured, prompting the other three to stare at him in surprise. 

"I mean _everyone_ ," Ron reiterated. "Are you sure you'll be comfortable...?"

"Yeah, yeah, a party sounds great," Harry said dismissively. 

If the way Harry was arching into Draco's touch, and the heavy look in his eyes as he kept glancing at Draco was anything to go by, Harry hadn't really thought much about what he had just agreed to.

They carried on through the rest of the meal making light conversation and touching one another beneath the table. Draco wasn't sure why he was playing along—maybe because he knew they'd reached a critical point now; he desperately needed to talk to Harry.

As soon as they returned home Draco pinned Harry against the wall, leaning over him and lowering his voice.

"What are you playing at?" Draco hissed. His plan at the start of lunch was to casually ease into the conversation, but Harry's antics had left him achingly hard and filled with desperate energy. 

"I don't know what you mean," Harry said innocently, seeming far too pleased with Draco's hands pinning his own against the wall.

That awareness only made Draco harder. 

"You know exactly what I mean," Draco retorted. "All the flirting...the touches. You begged to me fuck you when you were drunk! It has to stop."

Harry frowned at him in confusion. "I thought you liked it; you flirt back. You had your hand on my thigh during lunch!" 

"I do like it; that's the problem," Draco sighed. "Harry, I'm twenty years older than you. That should be enough to stop me wanting you but it isn't, I've tried resisting but it's getting harder and harder."

"But...why do you need to resist?" Harry asked, brows still furrowed. "You want me and I want you so what's the problem?"

"You're eighteen!" Draco cried. "I know you're older enough to know what you want and consent to it, but I have twenty years on you! I feel like I'd be taking advantage and pushing you into something if I act on my feelings...you're still so young, you might find somebody your own age you like much better."

"But I don't want somebody my age...I want you," Harry urged, pressing his body up into Draco's, revealing the evidence of his attraction. "I don't care that you're older; I love that you're mature. I'd have never dated eighteen-year-old Draco, but I want to kiss thirty-eight-year-old Draco and let him have his way with me. Your maturity really turns me on."

Draco couldn't help but groan at Harry's words. God, how could he resist any longer when Harry clearly yearned for him as much as he did for Harry?

"I think you have some very obvious daddy issues," Draco said. "But I can live with that. If we do this then we take it casual to begin with. That way if you decide I'm actually too old for you then we can part ways with no feelings hurt, or we can find out we go well together and make things more serious."

"Casual for now sounds great," Harry breathed. "So will you kiss me already?"

Draco grinned, leaning in and pressing his lips to Harry's hungrily. Harry kissed him back just as urgently, his wrists straining in Draco's hold.

"I can feel how hard you are," Draco purred against Harry's lips. "Do you want me to touch your cock?"

"Yes, please," Harry urged, willingly sliding both his arms above his head so Draco could hold his wrists together with one hand, while his other slid down Harry's body to unzip his jeans and slip inside to grasp his cock through his shorts.

"You know, these tight jeans of yours drive me crazy," Draco murmured, bunching Harry's underwear down so he could touch his bare cock. "I love how they make your arse look; has anyone ever told you that you have a great arse?"

Harry shook his head, letting out a breathless gasp as Draco began to stroke him.

"You're the first," Harry breathed, bucking up into Draco's touch, "What do you want to do to my arse? Tell me,"

Draco chuckled, pressing a sloppy kiss to the side of Harry's neck before answering,

"I want to squeeze those firm cheeks, slap them and get them nice and red," Draco said huskily. "I want to bury my face between them and eat your hole out, get my tongue right in there and taste you before spreading you open with my fingers and shoving my cock inside."

Harry let out another of those breathless little moans, and Draco wondered just how many more he could drive out of Harry.

"You like the sound of that, don't you, Harry" Draco pressed. "You want me to play with that tight little arse of yours?"

"Yes, yes!" Harry cried, closing his eyes as his body tensed. A few more pumps of Draco's fist had Harry coming, releasing over Draco's fingers.

Draco held his sticky hand in front of Harry's mouth, and one by one Harry licked each finger clean, never taken those bright eyes off his away from Draco's face.

Draco hadn't been this turned on for a long while.

"Can I suck you off?" Harry asked eagerly. "Let me taste you?"

"How can I deny such a lovely request?" Draco purred, releasing Harry's wrists and unbuckling his own trousers. 

He pushed down on Harry's head as Harry dropped to his knees, and threaded his fingers through the thick locks of hair.

Harry yanked Draco's trousers part way down his thighs, and then his mouth was on Draco's cock, wet and hot and _perfect_.

Not technically perfect, by any means. Draco had enough experience to know that Harry had none whatsoever, but Draco could handle an eager pace and a hint of teeth just from having the knowledge that it was _Harry_ sucking his cock.

He yearned to really tug at Harry's face and see just how much he could take of Draco face-fucking him, but he didn't want to push Harry too far on his first time. Besides, Harry's hot mouth was pleasurable enough on its own.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," Draco hissed as he felt his body stiffening in response to the pleasure. "I'm gonna come!"

Draco cried out as he came, Harry's mouth working hungrily over his length and drinking every last drop of Draco's release. 

Harry pulled his mouth off Draco's cock with a small pop, and looked up at him with blown pupils and lust-glazed eyes. He looked stunning, and Draco wasted no time in pulling him up to kiss him again.

Draco really could get used to this.

*******

There was nothing like a good orgasm to relax a person.

Unfortunately, orgasms didn't last very long, and when Draco turned into bed that evening he couldn't sleep, his mind wide alert with spinning thoughts.

He didn't regret what had happened, or his choices, but he still couldn't help but feel like he had pushed Harry into it.

Half an hour of tossing and turning went by, before he'd finally had enough and clambered out of bed.

Draco crossed the hall and pushed the door to Harry's room open. Harry was asleep, his jet black hair fanned out on the pillow. He looked beautiful, and Draco felt his heart ache at the sight.

He knew that it would be all too easy to fall in deep with Harry, and he needed to make sure that Harry was definitely aware of the implications of dating an older man. Whether they kept things casual or got more serious, an age gap would make for a different kind of relationship, and if Harry wasn't prepared for that then Draco wanted to know now before he potentially got his heart broken. 

Harry was sleeping peacefully for a change so it seemed a shame to wake him, but if Draco had to be awake then Harry could be, too.

Draco shoved Harry's shoulder which woke him almost instantly. Harry looked around wildly in panic for a moment before his gaze settled on Draco and relaxed. 

"Draco? Is something wrong?" Harry croaked, voice still heavy with sleep.

Draco shook his head, which prompted a sneaky smile to cross onto Harry's face.

"Up for round two already?" Harry teased, pulling his duvet aside and patting his mattress.

Draco rolled his eyes affectionately. "Already? It's only been a few hours."

Harry sighed. "I have a feeling I know why you're here then, but before you say you regret what happened, I think you should think of the benefits of having a younger lover; we're very virile."

"I do know that," Draco chuckled. "And I 'm here to tell you that I regret anything or that I've decided I've changed my mind. I just want to make sure _you_ know what you're getting into. Dating an older man-"

"You're only twenty years older than me, Draco," Harry murmured. "It's not like you're a ninety-year-old."

"There's the thing, though!" Draco argued. "You say _only_ twenty years, but being on the older end of that spectrum gives me a much different perspective of it. I've got twenty years of life experience on you and that counts for a lot, and it's not just that. People will talk, say things..."

"People have always talked about me," Harry retorted with a shrug. "They've always judged me, and tried to tell me I'm wrong. But I know what I believe and what I want, and I know you're going to be more... _aware_ than I am, but I think that might be good for me; I'm not very good at handling my emotions."

Draco finally gave him and settled himself on the mattress beside Harry, opening his arms when Harry immediately curled up against him.

"You're strong-willed, I'll give you that," Draco said in amusement. 

"I'm not going to give up on you just because of your age, at any rate," Harry murmured, nuzzling his head into Draco's chest.

Draco swallowed hard. Harry had hit the nail right on the head, and hearing Harry earnestly say that he wouldn't judge Draco based on the age difference did ease his fears somewhat. Only time could tell the rest.

He placed a kiss on the top of Harry's head, breathing in the citrusy scent of his shampoo. 

"Things won't be as easy as you can think," Draco stated. "But as long as we're both prepared..."

"You worry too much," Harry said softly. "We'll deal with any problems when they come up."

That went against every one of Draco's instincts; he'd always lived prepared and on edge, in control, ever since Voldemort had taken his choice away during the war.

Harry's viewpoint was very him and very... _young_. They did have different philosophies, but perhaps that could actually be a good thing.

But most importantly, Draco had realised there was no point trying to drive Harry away simply to avoid the pain of him deciding he didn't want Draco later. Having Harry in his arms felt so right and so natural, and he could at least enjoy things now even if they didn't work out later.

And nothing even said they definitely wouldn't work out. So his marriage to Astoria and the relationships he’d been in since hadn’t worked out; surely that didn't mean Draco was doomed to be loveless from now on.

He certainly hoped not; he'd very much like be in love again.

*******

One reason Draco had chosen to stay in rural Wiltshire and not move to a city was because he loved the countryside.

Though Malfoy Manor had been large and cold, the vast gardens and fields surrounding it had been filled with beauty. His current house didn't have grounds anywhere near as large, but they were still a lovely place to walk through and spend time in.

Draco was currently strolling through the fields with Harry. It was a pleasant day, with a warm sun and not a breeze in the sky. Flowers in various shades if bright colours framed the cobbled pathway, and large, leafy trees provided them with enough shade.

"I don't know if I've ever even come this far before," Draco commented. "Are you sure you know where you're going and you're not actually hopelessly lost?"

Harry glanced at Draco and shot him a grin. "I've been hopelessly lost before; it isn't all that bad. Though, for the record, I do know where I'm going; I think it's just up here, actually."

Harry led Draco on, just round the curve in the pathway which opened up to a large lake on the left side. The dark blue water glimmered in the sunlight, and the gentle breeze blew ripples against the surface.

Harry laid a blanket out right by the edge of the lake, while Draco unshrank the picnic basket and placed it on the tartan fabric.

They sat down side-by-side, allowing themselves a moment to take in the gentle sounds of the water lapping against the shore and the birds singing above them. 

"It's beautiful here," Draco murmured, sliding his hand across the blanket to rest against Harry's. "Do you come out this far a lot?"

Harry nodded, worming his soft hand under Draco's.

"I feel like I'm away from everything out here?" Harry answered softly. "There's no nightmares out here, no Voldemort, no missing twenty years. I just feel normal, you know? It's kind of like the nature equivalent of you."

"I can't possibly make you feel normal," Draco said. "You must be reminded of those twenty years every time you look at me."

"A little bit, yeah," Harry admitted. "But that handsome face of yours distracts me." He laughed. "Besides, you were a bit annoying and kind of a prick when you were seventeen so I don't miss that Draco. I like current Draco, who's sharp and witty but not mean, and thinks about other people as well as himself, and is strong and confident and...I'm going to be honest, so very good looking. That stubble and your hands..."

"There was me thinking you weren't going to be shallow," Draco teased. "But even though I can't quite believe it, it means a lot to hear you say those things."

And it did. The age difference between them still made Draco uncomfortable and feeling like he was taking advantage, so it was a bit of a relief as well as nice to hear Harry say those kinds of things about him. Still, Draco didn't want to rush into things; he wanted to make sure Harry had time to consider if this was what he truly wanted. He was the younger one; Draco wanted Harry a lot, but ultimately he wanted Harry to be 100% certain about his feelings. 

"Shall we eat?" Draco said, giving Harry's hand a squeeze before reaching towards the picnic basket. 

Harry had a made a nice lunch of various sandwiches and homemade quiche, along with freshly made lemonade. He really was a skilled cook, and Draco didn't think he'd ever eaten so well. 

For pudding, Harry had made some jam tarts, but when Draco opened a small plastic container he found something rather unexpected.

"Lube?" He queried with a raised brow and an amused smirk.

Harry gave him a sly smile. "Just if you wanted something extra sweet for afters."

Harry got up and repositioned himself on Draco's lap, hooking his arms around the back of Draco's neck. Draco instinctively curled his arms around Harry's waist and pulled him close.

"You can fuck me right here on these blankets if you want," Harry murmured against Draco's lips. "I want you to."

God, Draco wanted to. But he couldn't; he wasn't going to rush Harry into his first time just because of his own needs. Draco had rushed into sex with Pansy and it had been lackluster and regretful, and he'd wished later he could have had his first time with Astoria. It had still been wonderful with her, but he always felt like he'd missed out on something special. 

"I don't want to full-on fuck you just yet," Draco lied. "I still think you should wait a bit, but that doesn't mean we have to let this lube go to waste."

Harry let out a squeak of surprise as Draco lifted him and pushed him into his back, the noise being swallowed as Draco fell on top of him and kissed him soundly. 

Draco reached for his wand and cast a spell to rid them of their clothes—he could have done it manually but his self-control was already wavering and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he indulged Harry's wishes now, only for later Harry to feel like he'd been pushed into it by an older man. 

Still, Draco could give Harry a little bit of what they both wanted. 

Draco poured a generous amount of lube onto Harry's hand before slicking up his own fingers and tossing the bottle aside.

Harry moaned as Draco slowly stroked his hard cock, before edging his fingers further down Harry's body. 

"Touch my cock," Draco urged, kissing Harry firmly once more as slender, slick fingers curled around his aching erection.

Draco broke the kiss as he pressed one finger against Harry's entrance, watching his face for signs of discomfort.

"Please," Harry whined, fingers tightening around Draco's cock.

Harry's eyes fluttered shut and his mouth opened as Draco pushed a slick finger into the tight heat of Harry's arse. Draco moved his finger slowly at first, in and out, in and out until he found Harry's prostate which made Harry's eyes snap open as he cried out.

"That good, hmm?" Draco purred, pressing a second finger inside Harry alongside the first. "Do you like my fingers inside you?"

"Y-yes," Harry gasped. "It's so...it's so fucking good. Fuck, please more."

Their bodies were flush together, slick with sweat. Harry's fingers worked desperately at Draco's cock while Draco fingered him, both of them panting with pleasure. 

Draco came first, claiming Harry's lips again as he spiked his seed over Harry's fingers. He kept up a pounding pace with his own fingers as he moved down Harry's body before taking Harry's cock into his mouth.

Harry gasped, winding his fingers in Draco's hair as Draco swallowed him down, and he ground his arse against Draco's ministrations. 

With a touch more lube added, Draco managed to press one more finger into Harry's tight passage, and a few more pumps of his fingers and Harry was coming, back arching as he released into Draco's mouth. 

Draco swallowed every last drop before moving back up to kiss Harry so he could taste himself on Draco's lips. Harry kissed back hungrily, keeping his fingers wound in Draco's hair and tugging at it sharply. 

They finally pulled apart and got dressed again, settling themselves back on the blanket to look out at the lake. Harry rested his head on Draco's shoulder while Draco wrapped an arm around Harry's body to hold him close. A comfortable silence passed between them as they watched birds swoop above the water, and fish breaking the surface every so often. 

Draco couldn't remember the last time he'd ever felt so content.

*******

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Draco murmured, absently brushing a lock of Harry’s hair behind his ear. “Nobody will think any less of you.”

“No, I said I’d go,” Harry said quietly. “I’ll be fine; I have to meet all the family at some point anyway, don’t I? It will be… _nice_.”

The way Harry said it made it sound like he thought it would be anything _but_ nice.

“I thought we’d decided taking things slow was the best idea, so you didn’t get overwhelmed,” Draco pointed out. “Going from seeing two or three friends at a time to over thirty people is quite the leap.”

“I’ll be fine, honestly,” Harry urged. “Don’t worry; I’ll be fine.”

“Mmhmm,” Draco hummed. Harry would never admit to being nervous; he seemed to be more of a dive-in kind of person, regardless of how that made him feel.

Draco decided Harry had made his mind up so that would do, and he took Harry’s arm to Apparate them to the Burrow. The party was taking place in the garden, and a long table of refreshments was set up, while various games littered the grass for the kids and the kid-minded adults.

Most of the Weasley family were there already, along with some of their friends such as Neville and Hannah Longbottom—Draco liked more Gryffindors than he cared to admit, but Neville would never be one of them—and Dean and Seamus Finnigan-Thomas. 

Aziza was there as well, and she was one of the first ones to greet Draco and Harry.

“Hello,” she said with a kind smile. “Harry, it’s lovely to see you again. You’re looking well.”

“Draco’s been a good host,” Harry replied with a smile of his own. “Definitely the kind of person one should consider for a promotion.” 

Aziza laughed. “I’ll be sure to let his employer know.” 

“Hey, Harry!” somebody called—Draco turned and saw it was Bill.

Draco felt Harry tense immediately, and he had a feeling he knew why; Angelina and George were stood right behind Bill. Draco didn’t know George well, but he knew that his twin at died at the Battle of Hogwarts, which was only three and a half months ago in Harry’s mind. 

Draco nudged Harry’s shoulders comfortingly, and he felt Harry relax beside him as he waved back to Bill. 

Aziza, who’d been watching the scene, gave Harry a sad smile while he wasn’t looking. 

“Healer Espinosa is still taking clients, you know,” she murmured softly to Draco. Healer Espinosa had been Draco’s therapist, recommended to him by Aziza herself.

Draco gave her a pointed look to say _I’m trying_ ; Draco had a feeling it would take a lot to get Harry into therapy, no matter how much it could help them.

Harry stuck rigidly by Draco’s side through most of the party. Draco didn’t mind, mainly because he could see Harry was definitely struggling to stay calm despite his insistence that he was fine. He made great efforts to avoid the children and George; George, thankfully, seemed to pick up on that and gave Draco an understanding nod, but the children were less aware, curious about the man just a few years older than themselves who’d been friends with their parents until he frozen in time.

Harry did seem to enjoy talking to Dean and Seamus, who he spent a while with talking about their wedding three years prior. Draco and Dean had always been a bit awkward around one another, which was understandable given Draco’s family had locked Dean in a dungeon, but they maturely avoided eye contact and each focused on Harry instead.

It was a pity when Charlie arrived with Teddy.

Harry had just been starting to relax, and had even been chatting to Hugo about Hogwarts, when Charlie came into the garden followed by his dragon-care apprentice Teddy. Harry took one look at Teddy, went incredibly pale, and fled the garden, running towards the large shed that Arthur kept all his Muggle devices in.

Teddy looked taken aback, upset even, and Draco quickly gestured at him to say he’d be with him soon, but first he needed to find Harry. 

Harry was round the back of the shed, slouched on the ground with his knees pulled up to his chest. He wiped his face with the back of his hands when he saw Draco approach, and sniffed loudly.

“Hayfever’s pretty bad out here,” Harry muttered, giving Draco a watery smile.

Draco sighed and sank down onto the grass beside Harry. 

“These are very expensive trousers to be grass strained,” Draco teased lightly, trying to ease the mood. He patted Harry’s knee. “Is it getting a bit much?”

“No, it’s...maybe a tiny bit,” Harry admitted quietly. “Teddy is...he’s so much like his mum and dad. I dream about them a lot, you know. I can still see them when I close my eyes, their faces frozen and staring, dead before their son was even two months old.”

Harry made a choking noise in his throat, and all but fell sideways into Draco, leaning his head on his shoulder and clutching his shirt tightly. Draco hooked his arm around Harry and nodded for him to continue. 

“I thought I’d been doing okay….better, at any rate,” Harry pressed on. “I like being around you and my friends, but it’s easy to pretend with you. I can pretend that even though your faces are older, not much else has changed. I can’t pretend here, though; everyone is married and has children, most of whom are almost as old as me, and some even _older_ , and it’s so much to get my head around. Everyone but me has moved and healed from the war, and I’m left right back at the start”

“And it’s not that I wish everybody had done nothing but mourn me for twenty years or anything,” Harry added. “Or that things could go back to the way there _were_ ; I just wish I hadn’t been left behind.”

“I’m sorry we took so long to help you,” Draco murmured softly. “We should have looked for a cure harder.”

“No!” Harry said loudly, looking up at Draco with wide, serious eyes. “You didn’t give up on me, Draco. You, Hermione, Healer Negm...I’m so grateful to all of you, and I don’t resent you in the slightest. The only person I blame for all this is Rodolphus Lestrange.” 

“And he took the coward’s way out,” Draco spat bitterly. 

“It’s okay, though,” Harry continued quietly. “I know it’s just the way my life has fallen and I need to get used to it, and I’m trying, I really am. It was just, first seeing George, and thinking about how Fred won’t be able to grow old alongside him, and then Teddy...everyone must think I’m pathetic.”

“Nobody thinks that,” Draco said earnestly. “I can’t imagine how things feel for you—nobody here can. You’re incredibly strong, you know that? Even if you feel like you aren’t sometimes, trust me when I saw you are.”

Harry smiled sadly, laying his hand flat on Draco’s chest above his heart. 

“Despite all the hard parts, I’m happy I got the chance to know you,” Harry murmured. “I know I knew you before, but things were different then. Could you do me a favour? Would you mind getting Teddy for me; I really would like to talk to him.”

“Sure,” Draco said, pressing a kiss on the top of Harry’s head before standing. 

Teddy was waiting with Aziza, and when he saw Draco he immediately began babbling an apology.

“God, I didn’t realise seeing me would upset Harry so much,” Teddy uttered, running his hands through his sky-blue hair. “Is he alright? Can I do anything?”

Draco did have a lot of affection for Teddy. Teddy had been five when he’d first written to Draco, wanting to get to know his cousin. After a bit of pestering Draco finally gave in, and they ended up meeting for ice cream, and later coffee, at least once a month. Beneath all the piercings and tattoos Teddy was an incredibly kind-hearted young man, and he imagined that once Harry was over the shock he would get along well with Teddy.

“He wants to speak to you, actually,” Draco told him. “Round the back of Arthur’s shed. Maybe taking a drink as an icebreaker?”

Teddy nodded and went on his way.

“Harry seems to be doing well, then,” Aziza commented. 

“Yes, no curse-effects have shown up in him so far,” Draco nodded. “Physically he’s in almost perfect health.”

“That isn’t what I meant, and you know it, Draco,” Aziza smirked. “Despite the, what I can only imagine to be, emotionally distressing circumstances, he seems to have found a great source of comfort in you. Did I ever tell you that there is a twenty-five year age gap between my parents?”

Draco looked at her in alarm.

“Yes,” she continued, pretending to be oblivious to Draco’s shock. “My mother was teaching at university and my father was in his third-year when he attended one of her lectures and fell in love with her at first sight. They faced a lot of looks and questions over their relationship, but they’ve been happily married for sixty years now.”

“That’s nice,” Draco said. “But-”

“Don’t hold back because you’re afraid, Draco,” Aziza cut in. “I know what you’re like, how you like to have control, but sometimes you just need to take a leap of faith.”

*******

Draco glanced up as the Floo roared and Harry stepped through moments later, a smile on his face and his arms loaded with bags—or one arm, to be precise. Harry's right arm was raised slightly, though the sleeve of his zip-up hoodie stopped Draco from seeing if it was injured, though admittedly Harry didn't look like he was in any pain.

Harry dropped his bags to the floor and immediately made his way towards Draco to pull him into a hug.

Draco had noticed Harry wasn't usually a touch-friendly person. He seemed to manage alright with Ron and Hermione but his other friends he was far happier keeper a bit of distance from.

But Harry didn't seem to be able to keep his hands off Draco—not that he was complaining. Harry was always happiest with Draco's arms around him, with Draco whispering sweet things to him. Apparently Harry had a bit of a praise kink both in and out of the bedroom—and again, Draco wasn't complaining.

"Did you have a nice time with Teddy and Victoire?" Draco asked, pressing a kiss on the top of Harry's head before letting him go.

"Yeah, they're both really nice," Harry replied. "It's still weird every time I think about who their parents are but I try not to dwell on that. I mean, I was glad to get home, but I'd be happy to go out with them again sometime I think."

"I'm glad to hear it," Draco smiled.

Even though Harry still had nightmares, his social anxiety was rapidly decreasing the more time he spent out in public or with his friends from twenty years ago. 

"Oh, I got you something!" Harry exclaimed, dropping down to search through his bags before bringing a small box out.

Draco looked at the box carefully before reaching for it. The box was black leather and had a fine silver on the opening clasp; it was obvious to Draco that whatever gift this was, it was an expensive one.

Draco gently prised the box open, revealing a black leather bracelet, which had a golden thread twisted around the length of the leather. It was incredibly beautiful, the perfect mixture of masculine and elegant—definitely Draco's taste.

"Thank you," Draco breathed. "I love it."

Harry smiled. "When I saw it I thought of you and decided I had to get it. I just wanted to make sure that you know I really do appreciate you taking me in, and that you mean a lot to me."

Draco clasped Harry's shirt and pulled him close, kissing him soundly. 

"Thank you," Draco said again, his heart aching with affection. As he stepped back, he noticed Harry wince. "Are you alright? Have you hurt your arm?"

Harry was still holding his arm away from his body, and Harry quickly gave him a sheepish grin.

"A little bit, I suppose. I, er, actually got myself a present," Harry mumbled. "We were talking about meaningful things, and Teddy showed me what he'd done for his parents, and well..."

Harry rolled his sleeve up, a clear wrap covering his forearm where a pair of antlers were now tattooed into Harry's skin."

"For my dad," Harry explained. "His Animagus was a stag. I want to get a lily on the other arm, for my mother. You hate it, don't you?"

Draco blinked in surprise, and then gave Harry a wicked grin. Trust Teddy to be out with Harry for one day and encourage him to get body modifications. Still...

"Actually," Draco purred."I find tattoos very sexy. I hope you're aware of just how gorgeous you are, Harry."

A grin slid onto Harry's face. "How about you show me just how much?"

*******

Two more weeks went by, and things only seemed to be improving. Every medical check on Harry came back clean, as expected, and Harry had been spending more time with his old friends and Teddy. He was also getting closer to Draco, opening up to him more, which made Harry’s current bad mood was unexpected.

“You’re quiet today,” Draco commented over the top of his newspaper.

Harry made a small grunt in response and continued to stare at the table.

So something personal against Draco then. He wouldn’t mind if he had actually done something worth being angry about, but he was very certain he hadn’t.

“Right,” Draco stated, folding his newspaper over and dropping it to the table with more force then necessary. “Well I’m going to visit some of my friends if you’re going to act like a brat for the rest of the day.”

Draco was almost halfway out of the kitchen when Harry spoke. 

“Why won’t you have sex with me?”

Draco would have pretended not to have heard Harry and carried on walking if he weren’t so taken by surprise.

“What?” he exclaimed, turning around to fix Harry with a confused look. Was this really what had Harry so upset? “What do you even mean? We have a lot of sex.”

Harry shrugged, finally looking at Draco, his eyes uncertain and sad. “I guess, but it’s not like _proper_ sex, is it? You’ve never actually fucked me.”

“I don’t need to put my dick in you for it to count as proper sex,” Draco frowned. 

“Well, whatever,” Harry huffed. “That’s not the point. What I mean is you clearly _do_ want to put your dick in me, considering how often you _tell_ me you want to, but you always make excuses not to do it. All that talk you gave me about keeping things casual in case I wanted to back out because of your age...now I’m thinking that was just a cover for you. I’m starting to feel like you think it’s okay to use me to get you off, but you can’t bring yourself to put your cock inside me because ultimately I’m not worthy or something...I don’t know.”

Draco blinked. “That couldn’t be further from the truth. I...do you really think that’s how I feel about you?”

Harry nodded, casting his gaze downwards again.

Draco sighed, crossing the room to stand behind Harry’s chair. He looped his arms around the back of Harry’s neck, leaning over so he could rest his head on Harry’s shoulder. 

“I don’t consider you unworthy, or unappealing, or anything like that,” Draco said slowly. “I have actually grown very fond of you. The reason I’ve not been willing to… _penetrate_ you, for lack of a better word-”

Harry sniggered, then quickly tried to reframe his face back to it sullen expression, though it looked decidedly more forced. 

“Mature,” Draco teased, rolling his eyes. “But the reason why I haven’t is because I didn’t want to rush you into it. I rushed my first time when I was a teenager and it wasn’t particularly enjoyable and I regretted it later...I’m not saying you necessarily have to wait until you’re married or in love or anything, but I suppose my personal viewpoint is that you should save your first time for someone you’re at least a little serious about.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Are you saying you’re not serious about me, then?”

Harry’s voice was small, and it made Draco’s heart ache. That was proof enough to Draco that his answer was the all-honest truth.

“I am very serious about you,” Draco murmured. He sighed, knowing he was about to face what he’d been avoiding for a long time. “I’ve been holding back because I’m afraid you’re not serious about me, and I haven’t been ready to confront that fear.” 

Harry twisted around almost violently in his chair. “Really? I thought it was obvious that I’m _incredibly_ into you. I _want_ us to be more than something serious.”

Harry’s eyes were wide and vibrant, and Draco saw the truth of his words in those emerald orbs. 

“You know people will try and stop us,” Draco said seriously. “They’ll tell you I’m too old, that you’re too immature for me-”

“Screw those people!” Harry hissed, getting to his feet and facing Draco head-on. “We both know we can make this work, regardless of how old we are.”

“You’re right,” Draco agreed. “You’re right.”

And then grabbed Harry’s shirt and tugged him forwards to kiss him hard. 

Harry was his now, really his. Draco could hardly believe, could barely understand what Harry would see in a man twenty years older than him and who used to bully him at school, but Draco hadn’t been given many good opportunities in life so he knew better than to waste him. If Harry wanted Draco, then Draco was giving to give Harry everything he had to offer.

“Just tell me one thing then, Draco,” Harry said softly as they broke apart for air. “Will you _finally_ fuck me?”

Draco snorted, his cock growing hard at the thought. “You’re a randy little thing, aren’t you?”

Harry grinned. “You should consider yourself lucky to have a younger lover; even when you’re worn out I’d be happy to let you lay back while I ride you. And you didn’t give me an answer.”

Draco shot Harry a sly grin of his own, dropping his hands down to Harry’s arse to grind his body into Draco’s so Harry could feel how hard he was. 

“Does that answer your question?” Draco purred. “If you’re really sure-”

“I am _so_ sure,” Harry urged. “I much prefer the idea of _me_ being tied up and gagged, but I’d be willing to gag _you_ if it meant you wouldn’t ask me that again.”

“If you’re a good boy I’ll tie you up nice and tight next time,” Draco said lowly, causing Harry to shiver. “But for now I want to take you apart entirely because of me.”

Harry leant in to kiss Draco again, biting down on his lower lip and tugging before letting go and grasping Draco’s wrist.

“Come on, then,” Harry smirked. “You always used to be all talk and no action; I want to see if that's changed.”

Harry pulled Draco upstairs and to his bedroom, releasing his wrist once they were there so he could flop of his bed, arms spread out at each side of him. 

Draco grinned, surging forwards between Harry’s legs to kiss him, a hand on each of Harry’s thighs. It felt almost surreal that this was happening, and he wanted to make sure that he was going to give Harry something he’d never be able to forget. 

“Clothes off,” Draco ordered huskily. “Now.”

Harry gave Draco a mock salute before pulling off his t-shirt and shimmying out of his jeans. Draco quickly shed his own clothes, both of them tossing various clothing items aside until they were both completely nude. 

Harry’s eyes raked over Draco’s body appreciatively, which was fine because it gave Draco plenty of time to oggle Harry too. Harry was lean and slender, his limbs long but elegantly so. His cock was long, pale pink at the top and sticky with pre-come, and his thighs looked utterly delectable. Draco wanted to lick every inch of Harry’s skin, curl his fingers around his elegant wrists and squeeze hard, press himself between Harry’s thighs…

“You’re beautiful,” Draco murmured softly. “You’re fucking gorgeous, in fact, and you’re all _mine_.”

Harry’s smile in response to Draco’s words was dazzling. 

“Lay back on the bed,” Draco said, voice low. “Put your hands at the sides of your head and leave them there; there’s a good boy.”

Harry did as he was told, without any snarky retort which took Draco slightly by surprise, settling himself out on the bed for Draco’s display. Draco cast a quick cleaning and protection charm over the both of them, a spell he really ought to teach Harry when the time was right, before tossing his wand aside.

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” Draco pressed, crawling up onto the bed. He put his hands on Harry’s knees and pushed upwards, prompting Harry to draw them towards his chest. “My cock is going to feel so good inside you. I can’t wait to feel your tight hole around me.”

“I’ve imagined it, you know,” Harry said, rubbing the side of his face against the pillow as Draco’s hands massaged the globes of his arse.

“Oh, yeah?” Draco purred, pressing his thumb against Harry’s hole. 

“I’ve wanked night after night,” Harry answered, eyes fluttering shut when Draco lowered his head and swiped his tongue across Harry’s entrance. “I’ve shoved my fingers inside myself and imagined it was your cock. I love it when you finger me, so I think your cock must be even better. Oh-oh!” 

Harry’s breaths began coming up in little gasps as Draco began to tongue Harry’s arse in earnest, lapping at the furled skin hungrily. Draco had wanted to eat Harry out for so long but never dared do it before because he knew it would make resisting Harry so much harder. But now that Draco no longer needed to resist, he wasn’t going to hold back.

He grasped Harry’s arse cheeks with his hands to hold him open, giving Draco better access to alternate between licking Harry’s rim and stabbing his tongue inside him. Draco shifted his hold on Harry so he was lifting Harry’s lower back and arse into the air, his nose pressing right into Harry’s skin as he buried his face as deep into Harry’s arse as he could. 

Harry was letting out a stream of “ _fuck, fuck, fuck_ ,” and Draco smirked against his hole. 

He dropped Harry’s body back down flat on the bed and began pressing a finger into Harry’s arse alongside his tongue.

Harry moaned in response, grinding back against Draco’s face as he slowly moved his finger in and out. 

Draco finally, and rather reluctantly, pulled back. He could have eaten Harry’s arse for hours, but he was achingly hard now, and he’d promised Harry that he’d fuck him; Draco would have to save the combined rimming and wanking to completion for another time. 

Draco quickly reached for the lube, pouring a generous amount on his fingers and rubbed them together suggestively. 

“Did that feel good?” Draco purred. “Did you like my tongue in your arse? I liked it; I loved tasting your beautiful little hole, and hearing your breathless little moans for me.”

“Fuck, I-fuck,” Harry groaned, lifting his head and then dropping it back down to the pillow when Draco slid two fingers inside of him. “God, everything you’re doing feels _amazing_.”

“You’re beautiful like this,” Draco murmured. “So needy and pliant just for me. I can’t wait to bury myself inside you, feel your moans as I push my cock inside you the first time.”

Harry whimpered then, though whether at Draco’s words or the addition of a third finger, Draco wasn’t quite sure. Draco relished the sound, though; he’d always enjoyed that though Harry didn’t speak a lot during sex, he was a vocal lover in other ways. 

“You’re so tight around my fingers,” Draco continued, as he, on the other hand, did have a bit of a thing for dirty talk, which played right into Harry’s blossoming praise kink. “But I think you’re ready for my cock now. Do you want that, Harry? Do you want me to press my thick cock inside you?”

“Yes, yes,” Harry urged breathlessly. “Please, Draco…”

Draco continued to pump his fingers in and out of Harry as he used his other hand to slather up his erection with lube. He poured more over Harry’s hole and his fingers within it, wanting to make sure that Harry was plenty slick and stretched. He knew some pain was unavoidable, but he wanted to make sure that any pain was as minimal as possible.

Draco pulled his fingers out of Harry’s arse, repositioning himself so he was pressed between Harry’s legs. 

“Good boy,” he smiled when he noted that Harry’s hands were still neatly pressed against the pillow at each side of his head. “So lovely and obedient for me.”

He pressed his hands down over Harry’s, pinning them to the bed. “Ready?”

Harry nodded, a gasp of surprise leaving his lips as Draco pushed forwards, sliding his cock into Harry’s slick hole. Harry’s hands twitched beneath Draco’s, his legs curling round to wrap around Draco’s waist. 

Draco eased in and out of Harry slowly, allowing him to get used to the sensation. Harry’s body was tight around his cock, warm and soft and wonderful, and he began building up the pace, watching Harry’s face for his reaction as he thrust in and out of him.

“Do you like that?” Draco asked, closing his eyes for a moment to take it and truly appreciate the sounds of Harry’s breathless moans, and the slap of skin and skin.

“Fuck, it’s so good,” Harry slurred, almost delirious with pleasure. “Go harder, _please_. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Draco grinned, releasing one of Harry’s wrists so he could grasp Harry’s neglected cock instead. It only took a few strokes of Harry’s length for him to come, a scream on his lips as he came over Draco’s fingers, his channel tightening pleasantly around Draco’s cock which was enough to push him over the edge. 

He came with a cry of his own, spilling his release inside Harry, pumping his hips until he was completely spent. Afterwards he pulled out of Harry and collapsed bonelessly on Harry’s chest, both of them breathing heavily and their bodies slick with sweat. 

Draco released his hold of Harry’s other hand and pressed his sticky one against Harry’s lips. Harry sucked each finger clean in turn, lapping at his own come which roused a twitch in Draco’s soft cock. 

“Was it as good as you imagined?” Draco asked teasingly, pulling his hand away from Harry’s mouth before Harry inadvertently caused Draco to have a heart attack.

“Even better,” Harry answered, a wide, goofy smile on his face. “I can’t believe you made me wait this long for the experience.”

“Well, what do they say?” Draco teased. “Good things come to those who wait?”

“I must have had to wait longer than normal then,” Harry retorted. “Because that wasn’t just good but _brilliant_. ”

Unlike Draco, whose cock had stirred but was ultimately worn out, Harry’s length was beginning to harden again against Draco’s hip. 

“I miss that about being eighteen,” Draco smirked when Harry grinned at him sheepishly. “You’re going to have to wait a bit if you want me to fuck you again., though. Although, I did wonder earlier if I could get you to come from just me eating your arse.”

“Well,” Harry grinned, his pupils blown wide with lust. “Don’t let me stop you.”

*******

Harry's eyes caught Draco's in the mirror and he smiled, wide and bright.

Draco's heart warmed, the way it always did when he saw Harry. Harry made Draco feel warm and content, and he found something new about Harry to fall in love with every day. Draco was rather very smitten, and plenty happy about the fact.

"I can't get my tie to fold properly," Harry stated, pulling at the scrap of green fabric around his neck which he had somehow managed to get tangled with the collar of his shirt. 

Draco smirked, walking up behind Harry and pressing their bodies close. Using the mirror for guidance, Draco reached around Harry to straighten his tie, and when he'd finished he dropped his hands to hold Harry's waist and rested his head on top of Harry's.

"Much better," Draco murmured, giving Harry an amused smile through the mirror. "You might just pass as a grown up."

"I still think we should just stay in tonight," Harry said with a sigh. "You know I hate these formal Ministry events."

"Blame Ron," Draco retorted. "He's the one who got us invites for the Auror's Ball. It's a very exclusive event."

Harry sent Draco a wicked smirk. "I can think of something more exclusive we could be doing... I'd much rather have this tie round my wrists than my neck."

Draco dropped his hands right to the bottom of Harry's stomach to slide just under the waistband of his trousers, and pushed his own body purposefully against Harry's.

"We're going to the Ball," Draco said huskily, lowering his voice. "And when we get back I'm going to tie you up and have my way with you."

Harry let out a whimper of need, before shooting Draco another smirk.

"I'm just going to make sure we get a reason to leave early then."

Harry turned around in Draco's arms, hooking his arms around the back of his neck as he reached up to kiss him.

"I love you," Harry murmured against his lips, soft and sweet.

"I love you, too," Draco said back, and it was true. Harry had made Draco's life exhilarating and exciting again. Harry gave Draco purpose, and something to look forward to come home to. The age gap that had once seemed such a big deal didn't seem to matter anymore; any differences because of their ages were overshadowed by the overwhelming intensity of their feelings for one another.

They didn’t go to the Ball in the end;Draco had to Floo Ron and say unfortunately Harry was a little too tied up.


End file.
